Around My Heart
by Cora Clavia
Summary: Castle and Beckett, a collection of oneshots and story arcs inspired by Carmina Burana.
1. Suzer rosenvarwer munt

**Around My Heart**

**Summary**: Ch. 1, _Reie_ – It all starts when he sees her looking at his lips. Caskett.  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Castle._ I didn't write _Carmina_. I get no profit from this other than sheer enjoyment.

This is going to be a set of oneshots loosely inspired by lines from _Carmina Burana_, mostly anonymous texts by scholars and monks in the late medieval period (famous for their musical setting by Carl Orff; my fave recording is from Berlin, with Simon Keenlyside as the baritone soloist). It's amazing to think how human nature really hasn't changed in so many centuries.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Reie<strong>_

_Suzer rosenvarwer munt,  
>chum unde mache mich gesunt.<em>

Sweet rosy mouth,  
>come and heal me.<p>

* * *

><p>Castle set his glass down, turned back to respond to Beckett's latest good-natured teasing, and suddenly realized she wasn't meeting his eyes.<p>

Whatever she'd asked him vanished from his memory as he watched her eyes flick downward to his lips.

The dim lighting in the Old Haunt made it tough to tell for certain, but he could swear he saw her pupils dilate as her lips parted. His fingers tightened on the rim of his half-empty glass. Her eyes flicked back up to his, and she bit her lip, a tiny smile curving the sides of her mouth up and oh God, now _he _couldn't stop looking at _her_ lips. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from alcohol or – or whatever, he didn't know.

And she just kept _looking_ at him, staring at his mouth, her red lips parted and glistening, her eyes skimming over him like she was itching for dessert and he was pure chocolate. Her hair shone like rich gold under the lamps. He managed to stop lookingat her lips but never made it past her amazing hair.

He definitely needed to speak to the manager about getting better lighting in here. This smoky golden lamplight was entirely too dangerous. It made every woman beautiful. And it made an impossibly beautiful woman utterly irresistible.

* * *

><p>She excused herself quietly to use the restroom, and while that in itself was nothing strange, her foot brushed ever-so-casually against his calf as she turned to go, sending a shiver through him. And the look she threw back over her shoulder made his breath catch in his throat. She disappeared down the hallway and he knocked back the rest of his scotch in one burning gulp.<p>

As he winced and set the glass down on the bar, the bartender took it and gave him a pointed look. "What?"

"Nothing, Mr. Castle. Nothing." Twerpy little college kid with his skinny tie (where did Steve find all these guys, anyway?) just cleared his throat and stared down the hallway.

"You trying to tell me something?"

The kid shrugged and started wiping down the counter. "Hot girl's been giving you the eye all night. That last look _didn't_ mean 'don't follow me.'"

Castle shot the kid a glare, which was studiously ignored. He rolled his eyes but looked back down the hallway.

_That last look didn't mean 'don't follow me.'_

* * *

><p>He shouldn't have followed her. He shouldn't have stood outside the bathroom door in the dim hallway. He should have gone back to the bar, called a cab and gone home.<p>

But before more than that crossed his (slightly tipsy) mind, the door opened, she stepped out, he took in a long breath, and before he could tell himself he needed to stop, he backed her up against the wall and kissed her.

The kiss was too soft, too gentle, too like that first one in a dark dangerous alley. He was still reeling, the warmth from his scotch mixing with the impossible soft sweetness of her lips and the hint of her chapstick. She didn't fight him, didn't resist, just sank into him, limp and warm and willing. Her lips opened under his and he deepened the kiss, feeling the vibrations of a whimper from the back of her throat. Her hands were pressed against his chest, her fingertips tense against his muscles.

He finally reached up and threaded one hand through her silky hair, and it was almost too much, his head spinning from the alcohol and the smoldering lights and the impossibly soft hair curling around his fingers and the warm wetness of his tongue in her mouth.

He felt the hitch in her breath a second before it ended. She pulled back abruptly, the kiss breaking with a soft _pop_, and he swallowed, staring back at the scared look in her big, dark eyes. She opened her soft lips to say something, but nothing came out, and with one last confused look, she walked away, through the smoky bar and out into the night.

* * *

><p>On the cab ride home, he stared at his silent phone, trying to understand why he hadn't just blindly mauled her. Just taken her into the back office, swept off his desk and screwed her senseless before they both sobered up, instead of kissing her, just barely tasting enough to make him completely desperate with pure <em>want<em>, and then letting her go because they both got scared.

Somehow, that just made it worse.


	2. Rosa rubicundior

_**Veni, veni, venias**_

_Rosa rubicundior,  
>lilio candidior,<br>omnibus formosior_.

Redder than the rose,  
>whiter than the lily,<br>more beautiful than all the rest.

* * *

><p>The party was a stylish mix of stilettos, cocktails and a Latin combo playing an elegant cover of <em>Desafinado<em>. Castle politely smiled at something Paula said, politely laughed at something Gina mentioned, and scanned the glittering, glossy crowd distractedly, wondering how soon he could politely leave.

And then she walked in.

He choked a little on his martini and coughed ungracefully. In the midst of the crowds of loud colors and fake tans came his muse herself, dressed in soft white that clung to her in all the right ways, her skirt just a hair too short to be completely innocent. With her bare shoulders, her long legs, the glitter of silver at her throat, she was absolutely –

And then Kate saw him, and she smiled, and he couldn't take his eyes off her lips, full and scarlet and laughing at him just a little.

"Evening, Mr. Castle."

"Looking lovely as always, Miss Beckett." She let him twine his arm through hers to go mingle. He paused as they passed one of the floral displays, pulling out a rose and handing it to her. She tried to bite back the smile, but it broke through as she held the red rose up, sniffing it delicately, the petals an exquisite match to her lips.

* * *

><p>"May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Beckett?" She wouldn't normally have said yes, he knew. But for some inexplicable reason, she didn't say no, just gave him her hand to lead her to the floor, red lips smiling, white dress swirling around her legs.<p>

* * *

><p>A photographer near the door caught a picture of her, red rose against her white dress, soft lights gleaming in her hair, huge eyes soft and liquid and dancing as she glanced back at him slyly.<p>

She hadn't noticed the photographer, but she still wasn't comfortable with paparazzi. Castle quietly pulled him aside and slipped him a shocking amount of money for the picture of the beautiful woman in the white dress.

* * *

><p>Kate left the party early; she still had to work tomorrow, and she laughingly rolled her eyes when he suggested she stay and take the morning off. He walked her out, wrapped her shawl around her slim shoulders for her, and watched her cab disappear down the street.<p>

* * *

><p>It was late morning the next day when he burst into the hospital waiting room, shirt half-buttoned and coat hanging open. "What happened? Where is she?"<p>

Esposito held him back. "Calm down, man. She's still in there."

"How the hell did this _happen_?"

"Guy jumped her in the alley while we were searching the apartment. Had to be a professional, she barely got a hit in and she trains hard. We heard the noise and ran out."

Ryan shook his head. "Took _both_ of us to knock him down. He's in booking now for beating a cop. They're not gonna go easy on him."

The one day he decided to sleep in, since he'd stayed late at the party. The one time he wasn't with her. The one time he might have been able to help.

They sat waiting quietly, Esposito stepping out briefly to take a call from Montgomery, until a nurse came out to update them. "The MRI came out clean. She's stitched up, cleaned up, getting dressed right now. She'll be ready to go pretty soon. If one of you would like to see her now, you can come in."

Ryan laced his fingers behind his head and let out a shaky sigh. Esposito clapped a hand on his shoulder and stepped out to relay the message on to the captain. "Castle, why don't you go in and check on her?"

"Are you sure? I don't mean to –"

"Dude. You're her partner." Ryan put a hand on his shoulder. "Just – Castle, you should know – it looks worse than it is."

"I know, she's okay. The nurse said –"

"No, I mean it looks _bad_. It looks real bad. Just remember that she's fine."

"Uh – okay."

* * *

><p>"Oh, God –"<p>

The words left his lips before he could stop them. She looked up, startled, and immediately looked down, letting her hair fall over her eyes, unconsciously trying to hide as much of her face as she could. It didn't help. He sucked in a long breath. "I'm – I'm sorry – "

"It's okay, Castle. I know how it looks."

Her face was a mess of split skin, livid, lumpy purple and yellow bruising mottling her cheekbones and jaw, the sharp scarlet of her swollen lip, the puffy bruised scar over her left eye, which was swollen almost completely shut.

"Are you okay?" he breathed, trying in vain to get her to meet his eyes. She was avoiding his gaze. She _never_ avoided him. She seemed occupied with the stark white bandage over her right wrist.

"I'm fine." She tried to stretch her mouth into a smile. It didn't work. "Nikki probably never gets her face bashed in. Wouldn't want to dirty her up too much."

* * *

><p>The doctors discharged her soon after. Ryan and Esposito, now the lead detectives on the case, immediately headed back to the precinct. Castle took her home. She let him drive, simply handing him the keys wordlessly and following him. The whole way back to her apartment, he stole glances at her, but she didn't bother looking back, just stared at her hand in lap, her hair falling like a curtain over her face. On their way out of the hospital, her split lip had re-opened, and a few drops of blood had stained the clean white bandage on her wrist. She stared at it quietly.<p>

Something was wrong, but he didn't know what.

She didn't even raise a token protest when he opened the car door to walk her up to her apartment – if he'd had doubts something was wrong, this clinched it – and he followed her in, asking gently if there was anything he could do.

"I just want to lie down."

"Okay."

She disappeared into her bedroom, and he sat down on her couch, at a loss. She didn't seem to want him around, but she hadn't really kicked him out. And he _knew_ she could take care of herself – better than he could, certainly – but this quiet Beckett was unsettling. He didn't like it.

If only he knew what to do.

* * *

><p>Castle heard her bedroom door open and set down the worn copy of <em>A Study in Scarlet<em> he'd appropriated from her bookshelf. She glanced in the living room, pausing when she saw him. "You're still here?"

"Well, I didn't want to just leave, um, so I just did some reading."

She nodded, turning to head to the kitchen. Damn, she still wasn't talking. And he was out of decent ideas, so he went straight to reckless. "Kate, I don't mean to pry, but – is something wrong?"

"No."

"Why won't you even look at me?"

"Castle, it – it's nothing, okay?"

"I mean, I know your face hurts, but –" he saw the sudden flash of pain cross her features and stopped. "Beckett – you –" it suddenly clicked – "you feel _ugly?"_

She looked away, flustered, and his heart sank. So that _was_ it. _How can she think that?_

"Kate – " reaching out, he gently turned her battered, swollen face up toward his, brushing her hair back, waiting until she finally met his eyes with a half-shamed glance – "you could never be anything but beautiful."


	3. Sum presentialiter

Mini-chapter. Longer one to follow soon.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Omnia sol temperat<strong>_

_De corde totaliter  
>et ex mente tota<br>_sum presentialiter  
><em>absens in remota<em>__

From my whole heart,  
>with my whole mind,<br>I am with you  
>even when apart.<p>

* * *

><p>The chair beside her desk was empty.<p>

Beckett studiously ignored it, as she had for the past week. It was a week since he had left for a publicity tour on the West coast; she'd seen him on one of the late shows just last night, though she'd never admit she'd stayed up to watch it.

She was only just getting accustomed to being able to follow a complete train of thought without turning around to find Castle boring a hole in the side of her head, asking completely unrelated questions without preamble. It was unsettling.

Her phone buzzed. _How's work?_

_It's quiet around here for once_.

Her phone went silent for a few minutes. She stepped out to get some coffee, and when she returned to her desk, she had a new message.

_I miss you too_.


	4. Tui lucent oculi

(_Circa mea pectora _is the movement from which the title of this set comes; it translates literally to 'around my heart.' One of my absolute favorites from the musical work, too, baritone solo with chorus. Sigh.)

_**Circa mea pectora**_

_Tui lucent oculi  
>sicut solis radii<br>sicut splendor fulguris  
>lucem donat tenebris<em>

Your eyes shine  
>like the sun's rays,<br>like lightning's splendor  
>illuminates the darkness.<p>

"What the _hell _were you thinking?"

She fixed him with a look of pure ice, and as eloquent as he could be, Castle took one look at her and shut his mouth. Beckett was angry. At him. The better part of valor was shutting up.

Because as usual, she was right. He was an idiot.

In his typical fashion, he had waited precisely four seconds after Beckett had disappeared into the building with Ryan and Esposito, having told him to just _stay_ in the damn car for _once_, before he climbed out and started prowling around the back door. He had figured it counted as obeying, since he wasn't _technically_ following them in. Seconds later the door burst open, and before he knew what was happening, there was a man, and there was a knife, and he heard yelling and saw a flash, and suddenly he was on his back and there was blood all over his jacket and pain burning through his arm like _nothing _he'd ever felt before.

Ryan and Esposito had tackled the suspect as he tried to leap a wire fence, and a silent, thin-lipped Beckett had pushed Castle into the car and driven him to the hospital without even looking at him, watched with folded arms while his arm was stitched up, and then brought him back to the precinct, sat him down in the interrogation room, and unleashed the cold fury.

It was scarier than seeing her yell. She was an ice queen. And the icy chill in her face and her words scared Castle more than anything. Yelling meant she wanted to get through it and move on. Quiet, pent-up anger meant one day the chair beside her desk might disappear and never come back.

And then, after half an hour of chilly anger, the scariest moment of all. Beckett took a deep breath, headed for the door, and quietly told him, "Go home. And don't come in tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Alexis returned from school to find her father staring blankly at his laptop, absently running his hand over the bandage on his forearm. "Dad? I thought you guys had a case. You're home early."<p>

He looked up, startled. "What? Um, yeah."

"What happened to your arm? Are you okay?"

Finally shutting his computer, he sighed. "Actually, I need your advice. I think I really screwed up."

* * *

><p>"I love you, Dad, but yeah. You screwed up."<p>

Alexis had listened patiently before giving her verdict. Castle sighed. She was right. "I know that. I do. How do I fix it?"

"Are you sorry?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she told me to stay in the –"

"No, Dad. We've covered that part. Bigger picture. Why are you _really_ sorry?"

He stared at Alexis, forehead wrinkled in concentration. "I don't get it."

"Dad, you never do what you're told. She knows that. Why do you think she's _really_ so mad?"

* * *

><p>Alexis headed upstairs to do homework, leaving him to mull over the benefit of her thoughts. He was missing something. Alexis was right; Beckett knew he had a tendency towards curiosity. That couldn't be the reason she was so angry. It wasn't new. It didn't explain that look. That look of pure disdain. The look that turned her eyes from mesmerizing to scary. The look she had given him that made him sit motionless in his chair and wonder how soon he could disappear to go hate himself alone.<p>

She'd been angry at him before, but there was something different now. She wasn't arresting him, he hadn't pried into her personal life…he'd just done something stupid. That was all. Par for the course for him. And he was fine, everyone was fine, bad guy apprehended.

So why was she freezing him out like this? _Beckett, what did I do?_

Then it hit him like a flash of lightning. She wasn't angry because she hated him. If she'd hated him, she would have tossed him aside a long, long time ago. And he would have let her.

And at the very least, he knew where to start. Since there wasn't anywhere else to go with it.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry."<p>

Her expression didn't change. He wasn't too surprised. To be honest, he was surprised she'd even opened the door. He had been fully prepared to sit outside her apartment all night until she finally either kicked him on her way to work the next morning or climbed out her windows to avoid him.

His quiet, uncharacteristically gentle words took the wind out of her sails; he'd half expected her to brace up for another tirade, but as he spoke, her face just fell. She blinked and let out a frustrated laugh. "You're always sorry. You always apologize. And then it _always_ happens again, doesn't it, Castle? What's it going to be next time? You going to get yourself shot before you stop?"

His heart raced. How could she think that? "I didn't mean to –"

"You never mean to. You don't think. You never stop to think that maybe I don't want _you_ getting hurt, do you?"

He stopped. That wasn't what he was expecting. "You – wait, is _that_ why – Beckett – I didn't – "

"Castle, I'm only going to say this once. Do not _ever_ make me have to tell Alexis her father isn't coming home."

He felt his throat tighten. The ice was gone from her eyes, and there was a sad softness in her face.

_I don't deserve this woman._

Before he could tell himself it was a bad idea, he stepped into the doorway and put his arms around her. He hugged her tightly, burying his face in her soft hair, breathing out as he felt her body soften and relax into him, her arms coming around his neck.

"Kate, I was wrong. Please forgive me."

She loosened her arms, pulling back for just a moment, before resting her forehead against his, and he closed his eyes, feeling the soft warmth of her breath against his face.

"Maybe you should come in tomorrow."

He pressed his lips to her cheek, his whole heart filling with contentment. "Thank you."


	5. Sie puer cum puellula

If this reads suspiciously like an episode of "Without A Trace"…well, let's just say I might have stolen the idea a tiny little bit.

Also, please note the change in rating.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sie puer cum puellula<strong>_

_Sie puer cum puellula  
>moraretur in cellula,<br>felix coniunctio.  
>Amore sucrescente,<br>pariter e medio  
>propulso procul tedio,<br>fit ludus ineffabilis  
>membris, lacertis, labiis<em>

When a boy and a maiden  
>are alone together,<br>happy is their union.  
>Their passions mount,<br>and modesty disappears.  
>An ineffable pleasure pours through<br>their limbs, their arms, their lips.

* * *

><p>This week's model of bad guy worked mainly as a hit man, but raked in extra cash by helping women blackmail guys with sex tapes. Esposito grimaced. "Nice to see a guy who branches out."<p>

They'd successfully tracked him to his preferred place of work: after realizing how hard Vice was going to hit him, the nightclub owner broke down, telling them that for a modest fee, he rented out a room for the night to eager patrons. The hit man had it rigged with cameras; a woman who wanted to blackmail someone simply lured him up there, did the deed, and then had it on film, loud and proud. No, he'd never met the guy; no, he didn't have more than a cell number. Yes, the hit man had the room set up for business this weekend.

With no other way to track the hit man, they turned to the wizards in the tech department to trace his IP signal. That meant undercover work. Castle was the perfect target; he was rich and famous enough to be a big (and therefore lucrative) target, without being famous enough to attract excessive attention. Which ended up with Kate reporting for duty Friday night in her shortest, tightest little dress and highest heels. The look on Castle's face when she'd walked out of the locker room had been gratifying. At least she still knew how to surprise him.

* * *

><p>Properly tarted up, she leaned on his arm, watching the club. It was loud, dark, strobe-light-ish and shiny. What she wouldn't give for a nice beer and some Cole Porter at the Old Haunt right now.<p>

The club owner walked past and gave her an almost imperceptible nod; he had gotten confirmation from the hit man, which meant the upstairs room was ready, cameras in place, and they were in business. Her earpiece crackled a little as she subtly turned it on louder, Esposito's voice coming through. "Beckett, tech is in place and uniforms are ready to move in. We're ready when you are."

"Copy," she murmured without moving her lips (the one-hand-to-the-earpiece thing was the oldest giveaway in the books; anyone who'd seen a cop show would have spotted her miles away). On to phase 2; she leaned in to Castle with a predatory smile, whispering in his ear, "Time to take this upstairs."

"Sounds good to me." She waved over the club owner, raising her eyebrows, and as planned, asked if they could get a room for the evening. He slipped them the keycard, told them it'd be ready in half an hour, and just like that, they had a hit.

* * *

><p>She and Castle were halfway up the back stairs when Esposito came over her earpiece again. "Yo, Beckett, we got trouble. IP signal's still partially scrambled, but it's coming in from the north side of Central Park. He's further away than we thought. It'll take us a little time to get there and figure out exactly where he is."<p>

"What are you saying?"

"You need to stall. You've gotta keep him logged into the system so we can trace it. Just – just do what you have to, okay?"

It took a split second for his words to sink in.

_Shit_.

She took a deep breath. "Castle, that was Esposito. They don't have him yet. They need us to buy them time."

"How?"

"He's going to be watching us the minute we hit the room. We have to convince him it's real."

He swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"We have to do this."

"Okay." He nodded. They were right outside the room now, and she fished the key card from her clutch before reaching for his arm, pulling him closer behind her, settling his hand on her hip. She took a deep breath and reached for the door handle, swiping the card and letting it open. She could feel him lean into her.

"Kate – " he whispered, his lips brushing her ear – "I'm not an actor, Kate. If I do this, it's –"

"It's okay," she breathed.

"If you want me to stop –"

"I trust you."

She felt his sharp intake of breath, his arm tightening around her waist. And then his lips were on her throat, his hand on her hip pressing harder, inching her skirt up. He pushed the door shut behind him and turned back to face her. She took a long breath, watching his eyes darken, and then he took a step forward, backing her against the wall, leaned in, and her eyes fell shut as his lips covered hers.

He was gentle, warm, his mouth such a soft caress. Unassuming. Delicate. He was holding back. She could tell. His hands on her waist were clenched, his forearms shaking slightly. He was trying to be a gentleman. He needed to stop. He wasn't going to let himself go unless –

She reached up, threading her hands through his hair, and opened her mouth against his, tracing her tongue over his lips, feeling the sharp hitch in his breath before he took control. His tongue slid into her mouth and his hands left her waist, sliding up to her hair as he plundered her mouth, angling her head to give him better access. His touch got more possessive, his fingers slowly running over her scalp, his teeth closing over her bottom lip. She shivered, a little gasp escaping her.

He broke the kiss, breathing hard, and his hands fell to her shoulders as he started kissing her neck, biting gently at her collarbone. Kate drew in a strangled breath, biting her lip to keep from moaning aloud, her heart pounding, skin burning. His hand fell to her thigh, tracing a slow line upwards, inching her skirt slowly higher. She set unsteady hands on his chest, pushing him back, his lips never leaving her throat as he pulled her with him and they landed on the bed. She reached for the buttons on his shirt, feeling the sharp breath through his chest as she fumbled blindly, undoing the buttons one by one. He nipped at her ear as she slid her hands under the edges of his shirt, groaning as she traced lightly over the hard muscles of his chest. Her fingers slowly ghosted over his nipples and his hands tightened reflexively on her thighs.

He returned to her lips, dropping kiss after kiss on them, pushing up her skirt until his hands skimmed over the satin edge of her panties, pulling her onto his lap until she was straddling him. Kate let out a strangled groan, blindly rocking her hips into his, feeling him harden against her, the ache in her belly getting tighter and hotter, grinding against him _just_ the right way to make her whole body shudder. She sighed in pleasure, her hands weakly fisting in the fabric of his shirt as he reached behind her, unzipping her dress.

He slid the straps down her shoulders, placing soft, wet kisses on every inch of newly-exposed skin. The top of her dress fell to her waist, and his hands were all over her, her skin buzzing under his nimble fingers. She ran her hands over his muscular shoulders, leaning forward to bite gently at his earlobe. He jerked involuntarily, thrusting against her with a groan, drawing a muffled gasp from her as her thighs tightened around his waist. She pulled his shirt off his arms, letting it fall to the floor, and before she could react, he rolled her over in a sudden swift motion, pressing her down until she was lying back on the bed, staring up at him, chest heaving, lips parted, body tingling and burning with pure desperate arousal.

She held her breath with shivering anticipation as he pinned first one, then both hands above her head, lowering himself onto her and kissing her rough, deep, his tongue dominating her mouth until she whimpered helplessly against him, sliding one foot up his calf, arching her body into his, feeling the hot pressure cradled against the juncture of her thighs as he rocked his hips against hers once, twice, the friction through her thin underwear driving her wild as the tightness in her groin started to build up, her thighs and stomach tensing as she breathlessly gasped his name –

" – Beckett? Beckett! We got him!"

She jerked back with a gasp, her whole body shaking. Castle stared down at her, his face shocked. She pushed him off with trembling hands and rolled over, one hand to her earpiece as she tried to slow her breathing. "Copy, Esposito. Castle – Castle, we got him."

He sat back, giving her room to breathe, staring at her with wide eyes. And she pulled the top of her rumpled dress up over her chest with one hand, looking at the floor, the wall, the bed, anything except him. Because if Esposito had called in just a few minutes later, she was under no delusions as to what would have happened.

* * *

><p>Ryan and Esposito grilled the hit man in interrogation, and Beckett, an oversized police jacket covering her tiny dress, watched silently through the window. The door opened and she didn't have to look up to know who it was.<p>

He didn't say anything at first, simply joining her at the window, watching silently. At length, he turned to her. "Are you okay?"

Switching off the audio from interrogation, she nodded. "Yeah."

"I just – I didn't mean – " he swallowed – "If I – pushed you, or –"

"No, you didn't." Kate turned to look up at him, seeing the concern written on his face. "I know I could have stopped you."

"I lost control, and I'm so sorry –"

She shut her eyes for a second. "I did, too."

He stared at her silently for a second, glancing back at interrogation, where Ryan and Esposito were finishing up. "Are we – okay?"

She let out a long breath. "Yeah. We're okay."

She turned back to interrogation, staring into the room without seeing it, and she felt him set a tentative hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently before he turned and left. She bit her lip.

* * *

><p>Esposito caught her back at her desk, ready to leave for the night. "Nailed him. Got him on all counts."<p>

"Good work."

He nodded. "And just thought you might like to know that in the struggle, we accidentally messed up his computer. Turns out all the video he shot tonight was destroyed. Guess no one will ever know what happened in that room, huh?" She looked up at him, eyes wide. He just shrugged. "And honestly, I wasn't listening to my earpiece that much. I figure, none of my business."

Kate gave him a small smile. "Thanks."

"No idea what you're talking about." He shrugged again. "But you're welcome anyway."

* * *

><p>She finally got home – Josh was working a double shift, so her apartment was silent and empty – and after a quick shower and light dinner, she fell into bed, where she lay wide awake for what seemed like hours until she found herself with her hand down her underwear and Castle's name on her lips, even though she'd never admit it to herself. But as she arched against her sheets, she knew, with no doubt at all, that right now, he was doing exactly the same thing.<p>

And she wondered how it had gotten this far.


	6. Were diu werlt alle min

A follow-up to chapter 5 is in the works. Meanwhile, I give you the following. May it grace your literary palate like choicest wine, like meats and fruits of the highest quality, like a packet of mystery-flavored Gushers that end up being your absolute favorite kind.

_**Were diu werlt alle min**_

_Were diu werlt alle min  
>von dem mere unze an den Rin,<br>des wolt ih mih darben,  
>daz diu chünegin von Engellant<br>lege an minen armen_

Were the world all mine,  
>from the sea to the Rhine,<br>I should gladly forsake it  
>for the Queen of England<br>in my arms

* * *

><p>Kate ran a careful hand through her hair, made sure her necklace was centered around her throat, took a careful look at her eyeliner, checked to see her bra wasn't showing, and checked her hair one last time before realizing she couldn't even fool herself into thinking she wasn't stalling.<p>

Castle's fundraiser for the Johanna Beckett Memorial Scholarship was getting underway, a glamorous evening at the Waldorf complete with press, public, champagne and tuxedos. She glanced down at the note cards tucked into her clutch. She'd agreed to say a few words about her mother. Castle had assured her that she didn't have to if she didn't want to, but she'd insisted. This was important. Her speech was brief, just enough to choke her up, but hopefully she'd get through it without too much trouble.

She was about to leave the bathroom when she stopped for a second. Familiar voices coming in…she grimaced. Paula and Gina. Castle's sleek, glamorous, frigid ex-wife/girlfriend/publisher and his blunt, opinionated agent. Kate didn't relish the idea of walking out past them, so she hastily ducked back into a stall and shut the door to wait it out. _And everyone thinks I'm so pulled together._

"Nice party, though. You've gotta admit he throws a good party."

She heard Gina snort derisively. "Oh, yes, of course. Where Miss Beckett is concerned, he's a model of excellence."

"Ugh. Tell me about it. You know he was supposed to go to London this week? He got invited to sit on a panel for the Agatha Christie Society's annual conference, talking about modern detective novels. He _turned it down_. To come to this. Said he had to give it priority. I couldn't believe it."

"What the hell is wrong with him? It's _one_ party. How many of these has he been to? Besides, she's seeing someone else right now anyway."

"God. The one woman he _hasn't_ slept with, and he gives up a trip to damn London for her. Idiot would've doubled his readership. Tripled it in the UK."

"I just hope this detective's a good lay. He's given up enough for her."

"They're not sleeping together, Gina."

"He's got to be lying. No way he does all this for her if she's not putting out."

"He told me he wasn't."

"Oh, please. What was that, like a year ago? He's not blind. You think he keeps tagging along after her because she's _not_ letting him see her naked? I'd be worried if they _weren't_ screwing each other."

The two of them left, and Kate stared blankly at the stall door in front of her, her cheeks warm.

* * *

><p>Outside the ballroom entrance, she found Castle, dashing as ever in his tuxedo. He was scanning the crowd, but when he saw her, his face broke into a beaming smile.<p>

"You look beautiful, Detective."

"Thanks, Castle." She flushed, taking the arm he offered, and he set his free hand on her wrist. "We're going to have to go past the cameras, but they've been told to keep it appropriate and back off if we tell them to. You ready to go in?"

"You gave up London for this, didn't you?"

He was going to lie, but knew it was futile. She wouldn't have asked if she didn't already know. "Yes."

Kate put one hand to his face, turned it to hers, and pressed a warm, lingering kiss to his cheek. "Thank you." Letting go, she smiled and tugged the handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his cheek. "My lip gloss looks good on you."

He swallowed, gazing at her with eyes so warm and loving that she felt herself blushing, folding the handkerchief and tucking it carefully back into his pocket, patting it gently. "Perfect."

"Kate…I wouldn't have left you alone for this."

She bit her lip, looking back up at him as a smile broke through her face, and wordlessly, she reached around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug. Castle let out a breath, pulling her close, pressing his face into her hair, feeling the soft press of her body against his, the warmth of her face against his neck.

_I'll never leave New York again if it means you hold me like this_.


	7. Dulcissime

These are mostly stand-alone oneshots, not a single connected story, but many of you were kind enough to ask for a follow-up to chapter 5. I found a text I wanted to write anyway that fits, and I agree, the story's not quite over. So this is an epilogue to _Sie puer cum puellula_. And it's been through four or five re-writes at this point. Ugh.

Side note: I cannot tell you how epicly [not a real word] wonderful you reviewers are. I sat down at my computer to check reviews after posting the last chapter, read them, and honestly went _eeeeeeeeeeeee!_ out loud (luckily, in my empty apartment). Thank you so much. Every review is an absolute treat.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dulcissime<strong>_

_Dulcissime,  
>totam tibi subdo me<em>

Sweetest boy,  
>I give my all to you.<p>

* * *

><p>Twenty-four hours after Castle had stuck his tongue down her throat, stripped off her clothes, pinned her to a bed, and fallen asleep only to have a vividly physical dream about what would inevitably have happened next, he heard the knock at his door, recognized it immediately, and took a deep breath before opening it.<p>

Beckett looked up at him, shorter than usual in flat shoes, her hair pulled back. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." He shut the door behind her and turned to face her.

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, before Kate finally spoke. "I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"Thank you for being so – so good about what happened."

"I didn't want to hurt you."

"You didn't." She looked down. "I was nervous about it, but you really made it – it wasn't like I thought it'd be."

He decided to cut his losses and go for it. "Kate, please, just let me say this." He took a deep breath, meeting her eyes squarely. "I didn't mean to – to overstep, or push you. I respect you too much for that. But the only way I can make love to a woman is honestly. It was the only thing I could do."

"I know. I'm not angry at you."

"I know you're with Josh, and I would never – "

"He broke up with me."

Castle blinked. "He what? When?"

"This evening." She looked down again. "I told him what happened, told him I was sorry, and…he asked me to stop working with you." She finally looked up at Castle to see his face frozen in surprise. "He said it was just too hard to compete with someone who saw me every minute of every day, said he didn't like how much you seemed to overstep your place. Or how much I encouraged it. He asked me to get you to back off. I told him no. And he said it was over."

"I'm so sorry." _I screwed up everything, even for you_.

"I'm not."

He looked up, not sure he'd heard her right. She bit her lip. "He was right. We didn't really know each other. "

"Was it – was it bad?"

Kate shrugged. "I've had worse."

"Oh." _Good_ didn't seem like an appropriate response. "Are you – okay?"

She smiled up at him, a little watery, but her eyes had calmed. "I could use a hug."

He pulled her into his arms, into a warm, strong hug that took his breath away because she was hugging him back, folding herself against him, and maybe it was the flat shoes or maybe just that she was letting him but he couldn't get over how perfectly she fit against him, her head tucked under his chin, her entire body enveloped in his.

She sighed, her ribs contracting, her body sinking more warmly into his. "Thanks."

"I'm always here. Anything you need. You know that, Kate."

"Thank you for not pushing."

He cradled her face in his hands, searching her eyes. "I would _never_ push you."

"I know," she whispered.

"What do you want, Kate?"

"Kiss me."

Her eyes flickered shut and then his lips were on hers, soft and warm and gentle, kissing her like he had all the time in the world, unhurried and loving. None of the frenzied crush of the day before. Pure sweetness.

He let her go, and she nestled her face into his throat, her cheek soft against his collarbone. "You give really good hugs, Castle."

"You're a pretty good kisser, you know." He felt her lips curve into a smile against his throat. "No, make that an _excellent_ kisser. Gifted. An AP kisser."

"Shut up, Castle."

"Shutting up."

* * *

><p>Kate woke up slowly, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. It took her a second to recognize Alexis, who was leaning over her with a blanket. Lex noticed her waking up and paused tucking her in. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you guys."<p>

Turning around, Kate discovered that she and Castle were curled up on the couch, his arms wrapped around her tightly, his nose buried in her hair. Cuddled up together like any regular pair of lovers. And he was warm and soft and heavy, and she was so wonderfully comfortable right now.

She looked back up at Alexis sheepishly, but the girl just smiled. "Go back to sleep." She patted the blanket over them tidily, kissed her dad's cheek, kissed Kate's cheek, and went back to bed.


	8. Stetit puella

I fixed the Carmina text for chapter 3; I was lazy and used someone else's translation when I wrote it, but the other day I was good, dug out my Latin dictionary, and finally walked through _Omnia sol temperat_ myself, and I think I improved it. I like it a bit better now. The other translation sort of mashed some phrases together that didn't belong, but I think the sentence break belongs in a different spot. Of course, it's been five years since I studied Latin, so don't take me as the _sedes summae sapientiae._

Last day of school!

* * *

><p><em><strong>Stetit puella<strong>_

_Stetit puella  
>tamquam rosula<em>

There stood a girl  
>like a rose<p>

* * *

><p><em>Color<em>

The car pulls up to the St. Regis, and she steps out, and Castle's breath catches in his throat, because she is tall and slender and gloriously beautiful, the way models and goddesses and angels are beautiful, and not only that but she's not just looking at him, she's _smiling_ at him.

He's selfishly glad some poor stiff downtown had a heart attack tonight because she could not possibly look more perfect, standing alone on the red carpet like a queen.

"Good evening, Detective."

"Nice party, Castle." Her eyes are sparkling, her voice tinged with laughter, as she reaches for his arm (the way she would if she _weren't_ dating someone else), and he catches her hand, pressing his lips to it, leaving them there just a second too long.

He looks up to see her eyes wide, her face flustered, and the prettiest, delicate pink blush spreading across her cheeks. This should, rightfully, be the first time he's kissed her. But it's not.

* * *

><p><em>Fragrance<em>

Castle leans around her desk to see what she's got pulled up on her computer, leaning over her shoulder to look, and he opens his mouth to say something when it hits him. The scent. He doesn't know when she changed shampoos – alright, that's a lie, he noticed the first day she didn't smell like cherries anymore – but he's never been quite so aware. He thinks she has been trying new frangrances lately. He's also not brave enough to say anything about it.

She smells like jasmine. She smells heady and sweet like temptation and beauty and sex goddess and cloudy elegance. His eyes close, and before he can stop himself, he takes in a long slow breath, reveling in the rich, soft scent of her glorious hair, and he wonders what it would smell like on his pillows.

But she's saying something. He swallows and replies, relieved she didn't notice him breathing her in.

So in spite of his prowess at speedreading, he reads the computer screen more slowly than she does today.

* * *

><p><em>Delicacy<em>

Castle wheezes desperately as he tries (and fails) to keep up with Beckett, who's close on the heels of a burglar sprinting through the docks. She runs impossibly fast in those scary heels of hers.

But then her foot gets caught in a net, and before he can react, she hits the ground.

He sees her fall and his heart stops, and forgetting the burglar, he races to her side, suddenly full of energy. "Beckett? Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

She props herself up, breathing hard, and he sees the sharp red mark across her cheek where her face hit the ground. "I'm okay. I just fell." She raises her hand to brush dirt off her face, and he sees the bloody scrapes on her palms.

"But your hands –"

She glances at them. "It's okay. I've had worse."

He gives her a hand to pull her up, but as her weight transfers to her arm, she winces, letting out an involuntary cry of pain. Her hand slips from his and she cradles it against her chest. Castle swallows, putting an arm around her shoulders to help her to her feet. "I think we should get you to a hospital."

"Castle, I'm _fine_ – "

"No_,_ you're not. Your arm is hurt. So give me the car keys and let's go."

She sighs, and at first he thinks she's going to argue, but then she digs out her keys with her good hand and drops them into his waiting palm.

And as she gets x-rays taken, he sits in the waiting room, still a little shaken by the fact that she bruises and bleeds as easily as anyone else.

* * *

><p><em>Thorns<em>

Castle has been having a genuinely good day. The weather was mild, they've caught their killer, and he'd even tricked Beckett into uttering the words _Try rubbing it if it's so stiff_without thinking. And he has her so well conditioned by now that he didn't have to say a word; a pretty blush colored her face and she bit her lip, her eyes sparkling as she tried not to look at him.

All in all, a good day.

She buttons up her coat, her computer shut down for the night, and bolstering up his courage, he acts perfectly nonchalant. "You want some dinner? Alexis and I are going to make stir-fry."

"Actually, Josh and I have dinner plans. But thanks."

"Some other time, then."

"Sure. Night, Castle."

She leaves with the kind of smile she shouldn't be giving him, because it makes him think things he has no business thinking about a woman who's never been close to his bed, let alone in it, and as she disappears around the corner, he lets out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. Another _no_. He keeps going for it…and he keeps getting cut down.

Insanity has been defined as the repetition of an exact course of action with the expectation of different results.

He has never thought of himself as overly sane anyway.

* * *

><p><em>Silence<em>

Kate is dazzlingly brilliant, her wit as razer-sharp as his, her delight in teasing him evident. But as much as he loves her words, he thinks maybe he prefers her silent looks.

She has an entire arsenal of them, which he catalogued by mood and recipient. Ryan and Esposito frequently receive her You Guys Are Idiots look. Criminals most often get the steely shades, the colder eyes, the blank looks in which she stares them into submission.

He doesn't have sufficient information to accurately analyze the kind of looks she gives her lovers.

There is an entire file of Castle-looks. He enjoys these the best. There is _Don't_ Say That's What She Said, which he often sees after she's said something without thinking. A new one he's beginning to love is That's Right, I Can Dish It Out Too, which he simply considers a challenge to flirt even harder because she can match him, line for line. The classic Castle, So_Help _Me, If You Don't Stop _ Right Now, I Will Pull This Car Over.

There are warmer ones too. The heart-stopping Castle, I Trust You. Its cousin, Thank You, Castle.

And then there is one he has no name for, because trying to name it has only led him,over and over, to words he should _not_ connect to her. Words that make him think of white dresses and diamond rings and vows he knows would really mean _forever_. And that's entirely too –

"Castle? You in there?"

He blinks out of his idle musing, looking up to see her watching him curiously, hands poised above her keyboard.

"Sorry. Zoned out for a second."

She nods, not really sure if she should believe him, and then out of nowhere, she smiles. She lights up the whole room, and he takes in a long breath because as adept as he is with words, she can render him utterly speechless with a single smile.

* * *

><p><em>Petals<em>

It's not a candlelit dinner, not a smoky golden bar, not a rose garden in the rain. It's not a moonlit night with stars scattered through the sky.

It's three-ish in the afternoon and partly cloudy, and he's knocking at her door, not sure what to say because he just found out that she walked in on Josh in bed with another woman, a pretty, petite blonde nurse with painted nails and red lipstick and a 9-5 job who had apparently become the doctor's comfort when murder conflicted with his rare days off.

Kate answers, and her face is quiet. Reserved. He doesn't know if he was expecting smears of mascara or red-rimmed eyes, but Kate has always been a little more pulled together than Nikki.

She takes a look at his anxious face and gives him a wry smile. "Lanie told you, didn't she?"

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." She shakes her head. "She even told you to come here, didn't she?"

_She didn't have to_. "I don't mean to pry, but if there's anything I can – "

The rest of his sentence disappears as she pulls his head down to hers and kisses him, and then his mind goes blank because no swelling orchestra, gardens in the rain or starry sky could improve on it. Her lips are soft and warm and gentle, her mouth opening beneath his, her skin smelling like whatever sweet thing her lotion smells like. He's caught between the silky hair between his fingers, the velvet-smooth skin of her jaw in his palm, and the warm soft crush of her lips against his, and his chest aches because he suddenly can't breathe.

He lets her go, swallowing nervously, his breath catching as she reaches up and gently runs her thumb across his bottom lip. "What does this mean?"

She looks as stunned as he does. "I don't know, Rick."

_Rick_.

He reaches for her hand, twining his fingers through hers, and she squeezes back gently. "Me neither."


	9. Dies, nox et omnia

Soooo…I thought this storyline was over, but it has one last tiny piece. So this is meant to go in between chapter 5's sexytime (_Sie puer cum puellula_) and chapter 7's lovingtime (_Dulcissime_). This is thinkingtime.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dies, nox et omnia<strong>_

_Dies, nox et omnia  
>michi sunt contraria<em>

Day, night and all the world  
>are opposed to me<p>

* * *

><p>Kate had always been so damn good at her job. She was smart. Gutsy. Witty. Determined. She was a consummate professional.<p>

And now, because of her own professionalism, Castle knew exactly what kind of lacy black bra she wore, that kissing her neck just the right way rendered her completely helpless, and that pinning her down and being rough with her made her really, really hot. And Castle, not her boyfriend, was the reason for the red mark at the base of her throat.

Josh wasn't going to miss it. It was only invisible under a turtleneck, and there was no reasonable way she could keep him from seeing it, since it was dark enough that it wasn't going to fade for a while.

* * *

><p>She showered when she got home that night, peeling off the dress (and had it <em>really<em> been this tiny when she bought it? She didn't remember the skirt being so short) and throwing it into her laundry basket with a little more force than necessary. Damn thing. She couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd looked at her when she'd stepped out wearing it. Stunned. Impressed. Hungry.

It was wrong in so many ways, so many, many ways that made her body shiver in all the right places, and that was even worse. Remembering how his hands had touched her, light and hot and worshiping, remembering the probing heat of his tongue in her mouth, the shudder and hitch of his skin under her shaking hands.

She covered her mouth with one hand, staring at the wall with shock. Oh, God, she'd been terrible to Castle. She'd been toying with him for months. She knew how he felt about her. And harmless flirting was one thing. But to keep letting him follow her into deathtraps, to keep taking advantage of his feelings, and then to run home to Josh, leaving Castle to himself – she couldn't do this. He didn't deserve this.

And Josh didn't deserve to only know the pleasant side of her. To only sit across from her at nice restaurants or flop into bed beside her at three in the morning, with no idea that she had let Richard Castle stick his tongue down her throat, strip her clothes off and pin her to a bed beneath him. And that she had liked it. Keeping Josh in the dark about the true nature of her job was unfair to him.

At the very least, she should start by being honest to Josh. So when he texted _Dinner tomorrow?_ she texted back, _Okay_.


	10. Quid agatur in taberna

Just finished a five-month project of watching the entire series of _Buffy_ for the first time with friends who told me I _had_ to see it, since I never watched it before. Two things: a.) it's actually amazing. Seriously. Pure Joss Whedon. b.) in season 7, Nathan Fillion is the most _creepy_ bad guy. It was kind of terrifying. At one point I actually shrieked "Nooooo_oooo!_ Nathan Fillion, you can't _do_ that!"

Figured I had to return to my roots through Sid here. Fellow musicians, this little one's for you.

* * *

><p><em><strong>In taberna quando sumus<strong>_

_Quid agatur in taberna,  
>ubi nummus est pincerna,<br>hoc est opus ut queratur,  
>sic quid loquar, audiatur.<em>

If you want to know  
>what happens in the tavern<br>where money gets you wine,  
>then listen to my tale.<p>

* * *

><p>"Play it again, Sam!" Castle raised his beer in salute, and Sid tipped his hat with a grin, never breaking rhythm as he finished a saucy little tag to whatever old jazz standard he'd just rolled out. "Ladies and gentlemen, my pianist is the finiest in New York. Please laud him as such."<p>

"Hear, hear," called Esposito.

"That was a beautiful example of a Neapolitan properly resolved into a dominant that ended in a deceptive cadence using six to go to a secondary dominant and return to the inverted tonic to end the final cadence. In case you were wondering," Sid informed them.

"I did not understand a word of that, but I thought it was brilliant." Ryan mock-saluted Sid. "_Sláinte,_ sir."

* * *

><p>Beckett and Lanie were deep in conversation at their own table, and after several male approaches were rebuffed with raised eyebrows and pointed silence, the guys settled at the bar. Sid broke into ragtime, another skinny-tie bartender polished glasses, and Castle took a long swig from some fantastic new micro the house manager had dug up.<p>

"You know Beckett's a singer, right?"

Castle choked a little on the last of his beer. "Seriously?"

Esposito nodded. "Pretty good, too. Lanie said kinda smoky, old-school lounge and jazz stuff was always her thing. I guess she used to freelance in college."

"Have you ever heard her?"

"We convinced Lanie to let us tag along when they went karaoke-ing once."

Castle gaped. "She did karaoke?"

Esposito grinned. "Two words, man: Dancing Queen."

Castle raised his beer bottle. "Abba, I toast you. For the first and only time in my life."

* * *

><p>"Do I <em>look<em> like a juke box, Rick?"

"Humor me, Sid?" Either Castle's pleading eyes, or maybe the bill he un-subtly dropped into the brandy snifter atop the old upright, must have won Sid over; with a roll of his eyes, he shrugged and rubbed his hands together before dropping them back on the keys. "Your funeral, lovesick puppy."

"Come on, I own this place. You could at least pretend to look up to me."

"Eh. No fun in that." With a wry smile, Sid just shook his head and picked out a few chords in D-flat before he broke into _As Time Goes By_.

Castle tapped the top of the piano happily before turning back to the bar. "Oh, Detective?" Three heads turned to him. "Sorry. Female detective."

He saw Beckett's jaw twitch with amusement as she sat back in her chair, arms folded. "What?"

"Would you do me the honor of this dance?"

"A dance?"

"A celebration of Terpsichorean pleasure."

That earned him a full eyeroll, but to his astonished delight, she stood. "All right. But only because I loved _Casablanca_."

"Fair enough." She'd always seemed like a classic movie buff.

Taking the hand she offered, he led her onto the little dance floor and pulled her into closed position. Her hand settled gently on his shoulder, her eyes watching him curiously. Getting no objection, he pulled her closer, till her chest was pressed against his and her head rested against his shoulder, moving slowly with the music.

"Castle, is this just an elaborate plan to feel me up?"

Oh. She'd noticed. "Don't be ridiculous. This is hardly elaborate. Besides, we both know you can remove my ears if you think my hands are going somewhere inappropriate."

She chuckled. "As long as you remember that."

They fell silent. Beckett sighed, her body sinking into his a little more. He smiled into her hair, because maybe it wasn't his most elaborate plan, but the payoff was worth it. She was warm and soft and leaning into him, her breathing against his chest steady and even.

And the strangest thing: in spite of Lanie and the bros watching them with raised eyebrows, Kate didn't seem to mind it at all.


	11. Mandaliet

_**Circa mea pectora**_

_Manda liet, manda liet,  
>min geselle chumet niet.<em>

Manda liet, Manda liet,  
>my lover does not come.<p>

* * *

><p>The ambulance doors shut and the vehicle sped away, sirens screaming, as Kate watched it with tear-filled eyes. She felt a hand on her arm. Esposito. "He's a fighter, Beckett. He'll pull through."<p>

She just shook her head. "I have to go get Alexis. She's at school."

"No, Beckett. Ryan and I will get her." She turned to him, about to argue. He pointed at her shirt. "You go change before she sees you like that."

Following his gaze, Kate realized that her chest was soaked with red. She'd caught him when he fell.

"All right. I'll meet you at the hospital."

* * *

><p>She got there minutes after Ryan and Esposito, and the moment she walked in, Alexis immediately ran to hug her, teary-eyed and trying to smile.<p>

They settled quietly to wait, Alexis refusing to leave Beckett's side, clinging to her arm quietly. Martha soon came running in to hug everyone, distraught. "Any news?"

"Nothing yet."

After an hour of painful silence, during which Kate and Martha held Alexis' hands tightly and Kate tried not to remember the sick warmth spreading across her shirt as she had struggled to hold him, a doctor came into the room, peeling off his surgical cap. There was a tired smile on his face. Kate's heart leapt.

Martha stood, one hand plucking nervously at her long necklace. "Doctor?"

"Surgery went well. We were able to remove the bullet and repair the damage. One of the nurses will let you know when visitors are allowed."

"Thank you, doctor."

Kate clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. Alexis squeezed her hand tightly, and Kate pulled her into a tight hug to keep her body from shaking too hard, her eyes blurry again.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before a scrub-clad nurse entered the waiting room. "Family of Mr. Castle?"<p>

With remarkable speed, Martha swiftly pulled a ring off one of her fingers, grabbed Kate's left hand, and slid it onto her ring finger; it was a little bit too big, but looked good enough. "Just play along, darling."

The nurse took a quick look at her clipboard. "Mr. Castle is resting comfortably. He's still under, but the surgery went well. If one of you would like to go in and sit quietly with him for a few minutes, Mrs. Rodgers or Miss Castle, you may. It'll be a while before he wakes up."

"Detective Beckett is going in first," Martha informed her calmly.

"I'm sorry, but only family are – "

"They're engaged. She _is_ family." Martha held up Kate's left hand to show the nurse. "You go ahead, Kate."

"Very well. Follow me, please." With a nod, the nurse led her down the hallway.

* * *

><p>His room was quiet. She took a long breath, because Richard Castle was <em>never<em> quiet. The only sound was the steady beep of the heart monitor.

He was still and silent, lying in bed, skin pasty. His eyes were shut. The lights were dim, and the shadows across his face made him look older, drawn.

She sat quietly in the chair beside his bed. And wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm sorry you got shot, Castle."

It wasn't great, but it was something. She cleared her throat, a little self-conscious. "Sorry. That wasn't the best beginning. I just didn't know what to say."

She glanced out the window. It was mid-morning. Shot, surgery and recovery, and all before lunchtime. "I've seen people get shot before. It never gets easier. Especially not when it's your partner." She let out a shaky laugh and pushed her hair back from her face. "It's not glamorous. Never is. That's why I was upset when you shot Derek Storm. It's messy in real life."

She looked closer at his face, the soft, rumpled hair, the scrapes from when she'd stumbled beneath his sudden dead weight sagging against her and his head had hit the ground. Biting her lip, she reached for his hand on the bedsheet, holding it gingerly, not applying too much pressure. "Just – hurry up and get better, Castle. I don't like this." She squeezed his hand. He didn't squeeze back. "Come back and pull my pigtails."

He didn't move, no eyelashes fluttering awake, no quickening of pulse. Her throat tightened. "Don't make me start the waterworks again, Castle. I've cried too much today."

Still no response.

She sat quietly for another minute, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, twisting the diamond ring around her finger nervously.

When her eyes started to sting again, she stood to leave, pausing only to briefly touch his hand before she stepped out, a hand over her mouth to calm herself down.

It wasn't until she left his room, leaning heavily against the wall of the hallway with a long shaky breath, that she remembered: Josh worked at this hospital. She hadn't even thought of calling him.


	12. Cum sit enim proprium

Thanks to fabulous reader/reviewer I'mWidget for this one: you gave me the idea and I found a verse to fit. As Romanians say, _multumesc!_

Still trying to recover from the heart attack called To Live And Die In LA. Frickin _A_, people. Ima need an inhaler by the time this season ends. This is even worse than early Bones for So Damn _Close_ moments.

This is a sequel to chapter 11, _Mandaliet_; it follows immediately as Beckett leaves Castle's hospital room.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Estuans interius<strong>_

_Cum sit enim proprium  
>viro sapienti<br>supra petram ponere  
>sedem fundamenti,<br>stultus ego comparor  
>fluvio labenti,<br>sub eodem tramite  
>nunquam permanenti.<em>

If it is proper  
>for the wise man<br>to build his foundations  
>upon stone,<br>then I am a fool,  
>like a flowing river<br>whose course  
>is always changing.<p>

* * *

><p>With another deep breath to steady herself – she'd had her personal time; right now Castle's family needed her to be strong – Beckett straightened her jacket and turned to go back to the waiting room to send Martha in to see her son.<p>

"Kate?"

She turned back down the hallway to find Josh coming towards her, surprise written across his face. "This is a nice surprise! I thought you were on duty today."

"Josh, Castle got shot."

"He – oh! Oh, man. I'm sorry to hear about that. Is he still in surgery?"

"No – uh, he's in there. He came out fine."

"I'm glad he's all right."

She smiled, a little watery. "Yeah." She would _not_ cry for another man in front of her boyfriend.

"Anyone else hurt?"

She shook her head. "We got lucky."

He nodded, looking at her a little more closely. "You look a little wired. You sure you're okay?"

_My partner just soaked through my shirt with his blood. Sorry if I'm not thrilled to see you_.

"I'm fine." She ran her hand through her hair.

"What is _that?"_

She followed his gaze to find the diamond ring on her finger sparkling fiercely under the fluorescent lights. Her heart sank. This probably looked bad.

"It – it's not – it's Martha's." There was no way this was going to be comfortable. "She put it on so I could go into his room."

Josh knew hospital policies. "Family only?" She nodded silently. "You pretended you were his wife?"

"Fiancée." _Yeah, Kate, like that's better_.

Josh's face went blank, and he took a step back. "God, Kate. You couldn't have just said you're police?"

"I didn't – Martha did it, I didn't tell her to."

He shook his head, putting his hands up. "Of course not. Just – whatever. We can talk about this later."

"Talk about what? My partner got shot _in front of me_, Josh. He fell onto me and I thought he was going to die in my arms. Excuse me if your feelings getting hurt hasn't been the first thing on my mind," she hissed, trying not to raise her voice. The door to Castle's room was open, and there were nurses down the hallway.

"I just don't like the way he clings on you."

"I was standing _next_ to him. It's not like he did it on purpose."

"No, I mean I don't like how he – "

"No, you don't like the fact that he sees me every day and you don't. And he gives a rat's ass what's going on in my life and you don't want to know the unpleasant parts. Are we done? Because his mother and daughter are waiting to see him."

Josh sighed. "Look, I have to go. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Don't bother. I'll be at work. Doing my job."

"Kate – I'm sorry, okay? I – "

"Save it. We're done here."

She turned on her heel, walking away without looking back. On a sudden whim, she headed back into Castle's room. Nothing had changed; it looked like he hadn't moved. The heart monitor seemed to show a slightly quicker pulse, and his blood pressure and temperature were slowly coming back to normal, but other than that, all was just as she'd left it.

Biting her lip, Kate twisted the ring around her finger a few times, and looked down at his scratched face. "Castle, I think Josh and I are breaking up. So – if you – when you wake up, I wouldn't say no to getting dinner sometime, okay?"

And she thought maybe she imagined it, but she could have sworn, looking at the monitor, that his heart skipped a beat.


	13. Qui mane me quesierit in taberna

The whole gummibear poker thing reminds me of kitten poker. If you watched _Buffy_, you understand why.

Also, I know pretty much nothing about poker. Just being honest.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ego sum abbas<strong>_

_Qui mane me quesierit in taberna  
>post vesperam nudus egredietur<em>

Whosoever meets me in the tavern over dice  
>leaves naked at the end of the day<p>

* * *

><p>Poker night had been getting progressively more dangerous. Ryan generally left early to get home to Jenny; Esposito now left early to get home to Lanie. Beckett was usually the only one who stayed late. And ever since buying the Old Haunt, Castle had also started keeping finer alcohol in the house. Dangerous combination.<p>

And he kept telling himself it wasn't a good idea to drink too much with her, sit in dim lighting and trade innuendo over cards…but here they were again, doing exactly that.

He hadn't been playing so well this evening.

"What's the matter, Castle? Worried about your tiny little…bank account?" He choked a little on his scotch and her smile widened.

Kate Beckett had a dirty, dirty mind. And when she'd had enough alcohol, she let him see it.

Which was probably the reason he enjoyed drinking with her.

"You're bleeding me dry, Detective."

She shrugged, and he tried very hard not to notice that another button on her shirt had slipped open, showing him just a tiny hint of red satin against milk-white skin. "Well, we could always play for something _other_ than money."

"I don't have a stash of gummibears, if that's what you were thinking."

Her lips curved into a smile that made him swallow and shift in his seat a little. "I'm not really one for playing for pride, Castle…"

It took his mind a few clicks to catch up. "Wait, you – you want to play – for _clothes_?"

Beckett sat back, folding her arms. "What's the matter, Castle? Talk a big game, but you're chicken, aren't you?"

"Oh, like you would know." Her smile widened, and he let out a strangled cough. "You _have_? _You've_ played strip poker?"

She arched an eyebrow. "You look surprised."

"I – just – I didn't – "

"Or, I guess we could just play for pride."

"Oh, no. No objections. Strip poker it is."

* * *

><p>"Two pair. Lose the shirt, Castle."<p>

After another half hour, he was shoeless, sockless, and scowling at his random, unmatched assortment of cards. Beckett, on the other hand, had only removed her jacket. He had fully intended _her_ to lose most of these hands. This was not the original plan.

He obligingly unbuttoned his shirt, glancing up to see her watching him over the rim of her glass. He raised an eyebrow. "Care to do the honors, Detective?"

"In your dreams, Castle."

"Oh, you have no idea." He pulled off his shirt, noting with satisfaction that her eyes never moved. "Like what you see, then?"

She set her glass down. Her cheeks were pink, and he didn't think it was just from the scotch. "It could be worse."

He somehow managed to win the next hand, blinking for a second before he realized it was finally her turn to undress a bit more. _Thank God._ "I believe that would be you, my lady."

She gave him a baleful look but said nothing, just unbuttoned her shirt and slowly pulled it off. His mouth went dry and he swallowed, watching her with a look he couldn't fool himself into thinking was anything more than a leer. The fabric slid off her skin, revealing bare shoulders, a low-cut white tank top and red bra straps.

And that's when it occurred to him that maybe playing chicken like this was a bad idea. Because Beckett sure as hell never backed down from a challenge.

* * *

><p>He gaped at the dead man's hand he was holding – really? he couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten one, though the memory lapse was probably related to the empty bottle of scotch between them – before laying it down, card by card. "Full house, aces and eights."<p>

"Good hand."

"Yeah." His throat was a little crackly. He cleared it. "Your move, Detective."

She bit her lip, met his eyes - oh _God_, when she looked at him like that he wasn't responsible for the things he wanted to do to her - took one last look at her cards, and slowly set them on the table, facedown. "Fold."

Her eyes met his, and he took in a shaky breath, suddenly a little dizzy. Her mouth was open, her breathing shallow and _oh_ so visible under her flimsy tank top. For just a second she looked nervous. And then her lips curled up in a smile, her eyes flashing with a predatory gleam. Something in his gut twisted.

_Is she - ?_

He was half-hoping she'd take off her tank top, but then, in possibly the most painfully attractive move he'd ever seen a woman make, she paused, reached behind her back, and with a quick twist, pulled her bra off and set it neatly on the table.

"Castle? Your turn."

He swallowed, dragging his eyes back up to her face. _Oh, right. Cards_.

"You want to concentrate there, Castle? I thought we were going to play."

"Oh, we're going to play. Don't you even worry."

"You gonna shuffle, or do we have to find another game?"

He leaned closer, watching in fascination as she bit her lip. "Anything particular you were thinking of?"

"Not really." She leaned towards him. He didn't even pretend not to look. Because it really _was_ a little chilly. "You do know those aren't my eyes, right, Castle?"

"No idea what you mean, Detective. Just observing you. It _is_ my job."

"Anything…_specific_ you'd like to observe, or should I just guess?"

He held back a groan. God, she was hot. "This is a good start."

"What else do you want to see, Castle?" She bit her finger, and he shifted in his chair, suddenly uncomfortable.

"You sure you want to ask that question?"

"What's the matter? Afraid of a little…_heat?"_ She was _laughing_ at him. Half-dressed. So hot.

"Oh, I _invented_ heat."

"Only after you met me."

He grinned. "You really want to know what I want, then?"

Her voice dropped, sending a jolt straight to his groin. "Tell me."

"Well, hi there, everyone."

They looked up to find Martha looking down at them with a bemused expression.

They froze, Castle shirtless, Beckett painfully aware of her red bra sitting in the middle of the table. Martha scanned the scene, a smug smile starting to play over her lips. "Well well well, kids. I'm sorry I interrupted."

"We – were just – "

" – playing poker," Beckett finished lamely, her cheeks burning.

"And naturally, you ran out of chips and went straight to textiles?"

Utterly embarrassed, Castle surreptitiously reached for his shirt. Martha just snorted. _Forty years old and I catch him half-dressed with a girl_. "Rick, dear, looks like you've both had some to drink. Why don't you be a gentleman and go call a cab for your opponent?"

"Uh – sure." He pulled out his phone and stepped into the kitchen.

"Martha – this isn't how it looks – we – "

"I have no idea what you mean, dear. It's just poker." Martha glanced pointedly at the red bra on the table before Kate snatched it back, face warm. "Even if the stakes are a bit hotter than usual."

Kate didn't say anything, just pulled on her shirt and jacket, hastily stuffing her bra into her handbag. Martha laughed and patted her shoulder. "Kate, darling, there's no need to be so obvious. You had at least one more round before you needed to break out the big guns."

"Martha, I wasn't – "

"How many hands _did_ you throw, Detective?"

_Just the last one_.

Beckett blushed but said nothing about the straight flush lying facedown on the table. Martha chuckled. Clearly, Kate Beckett understood: sometimes, in order to play your strongest suit, you just had to fold.


	14. Ama me fideliter

The original chapter 14 has gone back to the editing board. I deeply appreciate all your kind reviews, but I was still not happy with it, and I think I can improve it with some more time. So thank you, as always, for your kindness; I strive to give you the best fic possible.

Instead, as consolation, I give you something to warm the cockles of your heart: this is a companion to the final scene of Knockdown, that little conversation in the back of the ambulance. You know, the one that made your insides turn to absolute mush and made you start whimpering at the sheer _cuteness_.

…oh, that was just me? Er…never mind.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Omnia sol temperat<strong>_

_Ama me fideliter  
>fidem meam nota<br>de corde totaliter_

Love me faithfully;  
>See how true I am<br>with all my heart.

* * *

><p>His hand hurts like crazy. Castle has no idea how he's ever going to write another epic fight scene now that he knows just how it actually ends for those involved. It wouldn't do to let Jameson Rook blubber about his sore fingers. Might interfere with his reputation as a badass.<p>

But then he looks up to find _her_ there.

She unwraps the tight gauze and re-bandages his hand, her touch gentle, her hands remarkably steady after a night that has shaken him almost to pieces. There are some days when he can keep up with the police, but it's times like this he really understands why his vest says _Writer_, not _NYPD_. This woman is pure steel. She's immovable. Unflappable. Unstoppable.

Extraordinary.

Dazzling.

And now that he's tasted her lips, felt the gasp of her breath against him and the sharp tug as she nipped at his upper lip, he can never, ever go back to anything other than sheer amazement. Brilliant detective, fearless fighter, stunning beauty, incredible kisser. He wonders if she's ever had a flaw. Right now, he thinks maybe not.

(Unless you count her willingness to let a bumbling oaf of a civilian tag around after her like a puppy for three years.)

She finishes wrapping his hand, her thumb lingering on his wrist, so warm and soft that he catches his breath. The touch is so exquisitely tender, like a caress. Like a kiss. She lets him go and he pulls his hand away to keep himself from reaching for her, unwilling to let her go. He never wants to let her go again.

He wonders if tomorrow would be too sudden to buy her the biggest diamond ring in the city. And then sweep her off to a seaside villa in Capri. For a month. Or maybe a year. Or maybe forever.

"Thank you. For having my back in there."

(As if he would ever, _ever_ do anything less for her.)

"Always."

Her eyes are so incredibly warm. She's never looked at him like this before. And he knows, with a flash of clarity, that no matter what happens, no matter who she's with, he will spend every single day trying to prove that he deserves it.


	15. Chramer, gip die varwe mir

Do you want to love your life and all the world? Here is my prescription. Go to youtube, search "mst3k date with your family." Watch. Love. Search "mst3k industrial arts." Watch. Love. Start watching other MST3K shorts. Spend several hours doing that without realizing time is passing. Repeat as needed.

I also just watched the pilot of _Twin Peaks_. It was before my time (I was 3 when it aired) but it's really, really kind of epic. Just when I think I've got it figured out, they throw in something offhandedly hilarious that completely throws me off-balance. It's bizarre. But I like it.

This chapter brought to you by the letter S for So Stunningly Sexy, aka the Little Black Dress from "Lucky Stiff." It occurred to me: wouldn't it have been fantastic to see Castle's reaction when she stepped out wearing it? Once the forklift lifted his jaw back off the floor, he might have had some choice words.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chramer, gip die varwe mir<strong>_

_Chramer, gip die varwe mir,  
>die min wengel roete,<br>damit ich die jungen man  
>an ir dank der<br>minnenliebe noete._

Salesman, give me color  
>to paint my cheeks,<br>that young men,  
>in spite of themselves,<br>may not resist me.

* * *

><p>A summer modeling had taught Kate Beckett how to dress and organize herself. Watching the makeup artists, even for that lame-ass exercise clothing catalogue, had shown her how to achieve a breezy, natural look that wore well. And she'd dealt with comments on her appearance since she started at the police academy. How many times had she heard<em> Oh, going for Vice, are we?<em> The first time she had, she had, then and there, promised herself she'd be a beat cop forever before she stepped on the streets as a fake hooker. It didn't stop the comments, though. The graduating class at the academy had unanimously dubbed her NYPD Barbie.

It didn't bother her too much. She took care to look professional at work. But outside the precinct, she liked to relax a little. And when the occasion called for it, she had no qualms about looking hot.

Now, to catch a drug dealer at a nightclub…

…called for the big guns.

So she reached into the back of her closet and pulled out one of her favorite dresses: short, tight, just demure enough not to be skanky but way too short not to be the slightest bit hot. It fit like a glove. The perfect little black dress: it promised a lot more than it revealed.

Pulling out her makeup bag, she debated for a moment but decided not to go overboard. Re-curled eyelashes, touchup on foundation. A quick swipe of eyeliner. Still doing okay.

Pulling out her blush, she sat quickly in front of her mirror and looked in, scanning her hasty work. Nothing a dimly-lit club wouldn't hide. She couldn't help but smile. There was something about dressing up; high-power detective or not, right now, she felt as powerful as she did fully armed. Lucky she'd shaved her legs last night, of course.

She dabbed on a bit of lip gloss, ran a hand through her hair – the great thing about wavy hair was that on the right day, putting in no work at all still made it look good – and headed out to the living room, quickly pulling on her shoes.

Castle was craning his neck awkwardly, reading the titles on her bookshelf. They needed to get going. They still had to get to the loft and pick up his car. "You ready, Castle?"

* * *

><p>He was surprised to hear her call him. She was quick. Even Alexis wouldn't have been ready this fast.<p>

"Wow, that was f–"

He turned around and stopped mid-sentence. Holy _shit_.

Kate Beckett stood in the door wearing a dress that couldn't have been more perfect if he'd dreamed it up in the land of perfect fantasies. Her legs were a thousand miles long, her hair tumbled over her shoulders, her lips twisted into a smile, and oh, _God_, he had to tell himself not to touch, not to reach for her, not to back her up against the wall and run his hands up those long legs, not to inch his way under that short little skirt, and then proceed to touch, taste and kiss every inch of her because she was everything a woman could possibly be and so impossibly sexy.

Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.

She watched his gaze go from shocked to dreamy to covetous in seconds. He swallowed, his hands bunching nervously. "You – look – "

She felt her cheeks get warm. He was now openly staring at her legs. And the way he was looking at her…it made her think of several dirty, dirty things she really shouldn't be thinking about right now. "Good?"

"Doesn't even begin to express it." He dragged his eyes back up to meet hers, noting with satisfaction her flushed face. "Something wrong, Detective?"

She bit her lip. His eyes went straight to her mouth. As usual. "Nothing wrong, Castle. Let's get going. We need to get your car."

"Of course."

She had already pulled out her coat and set it on her couch; he took the opportunity to hold it up, letting her slip her arms into the sleeves as she pulled it closed. But then he reached up to free her hair caught beneath the collar, and his hand brushed her neck, and she had to fight back the little gasp that almost escaped her, his hand lingering on her skin several seconds longer than it should have, the warmth of his body close to hers, the heat of his breath on her skin a terrible, wonderful reminder of all those dirty things she steadfastly refused to think about.

He stepped back, the moment broken, and she followed him out the door. "Anyone ever tell you you're like Police Barbie?"

"No, I've never heard that one."


	16. Chume, chum, geselle min

**_Reie_**

_Chume, chum, geselle min,  
>Ih enbite harte din<em>

Come, come, my sweetheart,  
>I wait for you.<p>

* * *

><p>A brief chase through a sudden rainstorm had left Beckett cold and shivering, so as the uniforms took their suspect back to the precinct, she and Castle stopped at her place long enough to change her shirt before following to start interrogation.<p>

After his innocent offer to help her change, which resulted in him shrieking in pain as she pinched his nose and politely declined, she left him in the living room with strict instructions _not_ to touch anything. Knowing threats from her were anything but idle, he opted for the next best thing: snooping. Some people looked through medicine cabinets; he preferred looking through bookshelves.

She had a few more books than he remembered, so he started poking through. She'd gotten into Agatha Christie, it seemed. A few Hercule Poirot novels were stacked on the corner of the bookshelf, as well as Jane Austen's _Persuasion_, _Brave New World_ and a worn-looking copy of _Much Ado About Nothing_.

Old books always caught his attention, so Castle reached for the tattered Shakespeare tome but it slipped, knocking another book off as it tumbled to the floor. He winced, but aparently she hadn't heard him. He set the Shakespeare back and reached for the other book beneath it, which turned out to be a first edition copy of _A Rose For Everafter_.

The dust jacket had fallen off, so he picked it up to put it back on. Opening the front cover, he blinked. 

_That's my handwriting._

He stared at the two lines for a second, and a smile spread across his face.

_She had me sign it_.

"I'll be there in a second, Castle. Can you call Ryan and tell him we're on the way?" Kate called from her bedroom.

"Sure thing." He quickly replaced the book, pulling out his phone. He couldn't stop grinning.

* * *

><p>The entire ride back to the precinct was silent. Kate glanced at him sideways. "What's going on, Castle?"<p>

"Nothing."

"You've been silent for longer than three minutes, you haven't tried to turn on the radio, and you haven't asked me a single awkward question. What are you up to?"

"You know you're beautiful when you're suspicious?"

"And you're transparent when you're stalling."

He couldn't help but laugh. "You missed your calling, Detective. Your wit is as sharp as mine. But misplaced, at least this time."

They pulled up to a red light. She eyed him suspiciously. "Then why are you smiling like that?"

"I'm a naturally happy person." She gave him a baleful look. "I accidentally knocked a book off your shelf. Sorry."

"That's what this is all about?"

"Sort of." She fixed him with another look as the light turned green. "Alright! Don't give me the interrogation look. It's scary. I went to put the book back. And as I was replacing the dust jacket, I noticed something very interesting inside the front cover."

He saw the sudden tightness in her jaw, the almost imperceptible widening of her eyes. Bingo. She knew what he was talking about. "Which book was it?"

"One I wrote. And one which I, apparently, had seen before." She bit her lip in confusion, and he couldn't stop himself from grinning. She was so adorable when she was flustered. He decided to just go straight in. "Why didn't you tell me I signed your book?"

She had progressed to full-on worrying her lip between her front teeth, and he hadn't thought she could be cuter but now she was. "It – it was a _really_ long time ago."

"Did you come to a book signing?" She didn't answer. "Did you camp outside the bookstore?" That got an eyeroll, but still she said nothing. He grinned. "Were you wearing one of those 'I Heart Rick Castle' shirts? Because I really loved those."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Castle."

"I'll recover." He watched her closely. Her cheeks were pink. "Why didn't you say anything? Three years we've been partners, and you never admitted you stood in line with all my shrieking groupies to get a glimpse of my ruggedly handsome face?"

She shot him his favorite smile, the one she always tried to hide but never could. He loved watching the split second she lost the fight. It made her whole face light up. "Didn't think you needed the ego boost, Castle. Your head barely fits through doorways as it is."

He beamed at her. "Thanks." He loved her snark.

She shook her head, laughing a little. "I just – I didn't know how to tell you. It was a hard time for me. I was still dealing with Mom's death, and your books were kind of an escape for me. I didn't actually mean to come to the signing, actually. I was just there to buy the new book. But then I saw the signs, and I thought it would be neat to actually meet you."

She paused to turn into the parking garage. Castle was hooked, though. "And? Was it?"

She smiled, pulling into a spot and turned off the car. "You were very pleasant."

"_Pleasant?_ That's it? Not dashing, charming, heartbreaking? I was 'nice?'" He put his hands over his heart. "You wound me, Beckett. I must have been off my game that day."

"You must have. You didn't make a single innuendo."

"I apologize for that."

She headed toward the precinct doors with a peal of laughter, leaving him to follow her with a smile. He had signed thousands of books; he didn't remember her. But he must have noticed her. He didn't write such personal messages to people who didn't catch his attention somehow.

_To Kate, the girl with the beautiful smile. Hope I see you again someday. - Rick_


	17. In trutina

This is bizarre, but the other day, out of nowhere, I started imagining the inevitable Castle/Beckett wedding. I have no idea where it came from. But I was thinking beach wedding, maybe in the Hamptons, classic straight-tie tixes, and for Kate's dress, maybe something soft, kind of slim and modern, light fabric, something that blows prettily in ocean breezes, maybe a flower in her hair. I don't see her so much in a cupcake dress.

And now, a famous Carmina movement. This and _O Fortuna_ are the two that people generally know. This chapter is a companion to the asthma-attack-inducing hotel scene from "To Love And Die In LA." Seriously. I was making pterodactyl noises of GAHHHH the first time I saw it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>In trutina<strong>_

_In trutina  
>mentis dubia<br>fluctuant contraria  
>lascivus amor et pudicitia<em>

In the balance  
>of my uncertain mind,<br>sensual love and modesty  
>oppose each other<p>

* * *

><p><em>(You're not so bad yourself, Castle.)<em>

Kate didn't mean to say it so low, so throaty. So inviting. She didn't realize she had until she saw the look in his eyes. She froze. He wanted to kiss her. She _knew_ he wanted to kiss her.

The only thing she could do was escape. Because if he kissed her right now…she was going to kiss him back.

"I should go. It's late. Goodnight."

She headed for her bedroom, half-wondering if he might try to stop her.

"Kate – "

"Good night, Castle."

She shut her door behind her and fell against it, covering her face, her heart racing. He wanted her. He wasn't even trying to hide it. The intimacy of a quiet dinner and wine had upset the delicate balance they'd found, cut straight through the veneer of humor and sharp wit, and left him gazing at her, inches away, his face covered in raw, vulnerable honesty. He wanted her desperately.

And she wouldn't stop him.

She took in a long breath, pushing her hair back, and her left hand reached to hover above the door handle.

All she had to do was open the door. It would only take half a second. He would be on her before she could think. And he would be gentle – so gentle – but he would kiss her, and he would touch her, and she would not tell him to stop, and he would not stop, and she knew perfectly well that she would end up in his bed. It was when, not if. And they wouldn't stop to talk first.

All she had to do was not tell him 'no.' She just had to open a door. He wanted her. She…

…couldn't even pretend she didn't want him right now.

Before she could think about it, she grabbed the handle and opened the door.

The room was empty, and as she looked across, she saw his door shut quietly. Kate stepped back into her room. She swallowed and closed her eyes, trying not to acknowledge the fact that had she opened her door a few seconds earlier, she would be on her way to Richard Castle's bed right now.

* * *

><p><em>(The last thing you want is to look back on your life and wonder, 'if only.')<em>

She turned, watching her sleeping seatmate. The man who had upgraded her flight, followed her across the country, dragged her into a nicer hotel, listened to her, comforted her, told her she was beautiful, told her she was strong, told her she was extraordinary, held her close as they quietly prepared to freeze to death together, dragged her from a burning building, asked her forgiveness for hurting her, used his own money to try to catch her mother's killer, shot a man to save her life, and made it his personal mission, for three years, to ensure that she laughed at least three times a day and ate breakfast every morning whether she had time for it or not.

The man who would do absolutely anything for her.

The man who had stopped himself from kissing her. Even though he'd wanted to. Because he knew it was the wrong thing to do.

And even though nothing happened, Kate realized, she'd made her decision that night. A decision that just made things even _more_ complicated.

Because now she had another decision to make.


	18. Sed eligo quod video

I just saw the sneak peek for Knockout (you can find it on the Castle Spoilers site over at Blogspot), and son of a GOAT I am already dying here because Castle TOTALLY just called her out on all her shit and I am FLAILING. Seriously, friends. I don't know how I'm going to handle the summer-long combined heart and asthma attack which is inevitably going to commence at about 11:01PM Monday night.

So…yeah. Gird your loins. Mine are girt.

I apparently have less self-control than Andrew Marlowe does, because after the LA episode, I can't just let it go. Blast you, Andrew Marlowe! But apparently the author of _In trutina_ is on my side. Because this is verse 2. So this is a sequel to chapter 17, _In trutina._

* * *

><p><em><strong>In trutina<strong>_

_Sed eligo quod video  
>collum iugo prebeo<br>ad iugum tamen suave  
>transeo<em>

But I choose what I see  
>and surrender my neck to the yoke,<br>and take upon myself  
>the sweet bondage.<p>

* * *

><p>She folded the letter, placing it carefully back into her bag, and looked back at Castle, chewing absently on her thumbnail for several seconds. He snorted, but otherwise didn't move.<p>

_It's clear that you and Castle have something real. And you're fighting it. But trust me: putting the job ahead of your heart is a mistake._

Biting her lip, she finally couldn't handle the silence and reached for his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. "Castle?"

"Wha- what? Beckett? Something wrong?" he squinted, scrubbing his eyes with one hand as his mind jerked out of the fog of sleep and he turned back to face her. For a second she felt bad for waking him. He was tired. And adorably innocent when he slept.

"Sorry to wake you."

"No, no. 'Sokay." He cleared his throat, fixing her with his bright eyes. "What is it?"

She opened her mouth and realized she didn't know what to say. _I want you_ seemed a bit sudden. _I love you_ scared her. _I've come to depend on you_ was better but awkward.

"Thank you. For – for everything. I couldn't do this without you." It was a coward's way out. On the other hand, though, it was completely true.

His face softened into a smile. "Whatever I can do. Always. You know that."

"I do. But – I don't say it often enough. So thank you."

"You will always be welcome."

Without really thinking, she reached for his hand, and he took it, lacing his fingers through hers with a gentle queeze. "Still a few hours before we get to New York. You should get some rest."

"Yeah. Sorry to wake you."

He leaned over, bumping her shoulder with a smile. "It was worth it."

* * *

><p>She woke not long before they touched down at LaGuardia to find herself cuddled against him, head on his shoulder, a little spot of drool on his blazer, and Castle looking away, almost convincing her that he hadn't just spent the last hour gazing at her adoringly. Finally untangling her fingers from his, she wiped her mouth self-consciously, brushing her hair from her eyes, and prepared for a conversation she'd been thinking about having since the last time Castle had saved her life.<p>

* * *

><p>After a long day of paperwork and a confrontation she'd realized was inevitable, it was almost ten when she raised her hand to knock on Castle's door.<p>

He opened on the second knock, and she almost thought he'd been expecting this. "Hi. Uh – please, come in."

Letting him shut the door behind her, Kate paused for a second to take a long look at him. She saw Rick Castle every day. But now she really looked. He met her gaze evenly, watching her curiously. He looked rested. He must have slept. But the way he watched her, that face gentle, the same warm look in his eyes he'd had when he told her she was his personal, beautiful enigma. Watching her. Waiting. For whatever she chose.

(When he kissed her outside the warehouse…he let _her_ decide to use tongue.)

Her heart hammered, but somehow it was a little easier to speak.

"Castle, I – I don't really know how to say this – "

"It's okay. Take your time." He placed his hand on her back, guiding her gently to the couch, settling her and sitting beside her, and she almost laughed because wasn't this exactly the way this whole mess started? But this time, no wine. No excuse.

And no obstacle.

"I finished Royce's letter. On the plane." He nodded slowly, still not exactly sure where she was going with it. Kate took in a long breath. "He, um – he told me to give you a chance."

Castle blinked, clearly not quite sure he knew what she meant. "Give me a chance?"

"To give _us_ a chance."

That made stop short, his eyes widening. She felt the sudden tension as he stopped himself from leaning into her. "Kate – Kate, you're with someone."

"Not anymore."

His throat contracted as he swallowed. "Josh?"

"Gone."

"But – "

"We both knew it was kind of a formality at this point," she said with a mirthless smile. "Trying to explain why I shared another man's hotel room in Los Angeles didn't help." Josh had never liked Castle. Telling him she'd run off with Castle, chasing yet another part of her life she'd never told Josh about, had made it a little easier to say goodbye two hours ago. He had taken his things and left her place silently.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was over, a long time ago. I just couldn't let go."

He reached out, hesitating, and set a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"I just – I'm not good at this, Castle." She looked up at him to find him leaning closer. "I don't – know how to tell you –"

Before the last words left her mouth, he swallowed them with a kiss, and her eyes fell shut as he finally leaned in, his hand reaching up to gently tilt her face toward his.

He pulled back for a moment, brushing her hair back from her face. "What do you want to tell me, Kate?"

_He knows. Maybe he already knew_. "I – I've known how you feel about me for…a while now. I've been running from you. I'm sorry."

"I'm a patient man."

She gave him a baleful look, trying to hide her smile. "You, patient?"

"Alright, not so much." He laughed, brushing a hand over her cheek. "Kate Beckett, you're worth waiting for." He leaned in but stopped just before reaching her, his lips brushing hers softly. "But I don't want to wait anymore."

She didn't even have to move, just caught his lips with hers, sighing into his mouth as he ran his hand over her jaw, his fingers tangling in her hair. And she let him press her gently into the cushions, her mouth opening under his as he deepened the kiss, filling her mouth, her eyes, her ears, her skin tingling under his fingers.

A muffled squeak from across the room broke them apart, and Kate turned to see Alexis, hand clapped over her mouth, staring at them with saucer eyes.

"Ohmygod – really? You two are – _really?_"

Kate blushed, burying her face in his shoulder, and she felt the rumble in his chest as he laughed, rubbing her back. "Yeah. We are."

"I'm so glad!" Alexis hurried over and pulled them both into a big hug. "Really. You guys are _perfect_ for each other."

* * *

><p>Kate woke some time later, blinking sleepily as she looked around. Castle's bedroom. Mattress that felt <em>heavenly<em>. Comforter like a bank of silk clouds. And Castle's arm curled around her waist, warm and heavy, his fingers just under the hem of her shirt, tracing light circles on her stomach.

"Castle, are you watching me sleep?"

"Of course not." She felt him press a gentle kiss to her throat. "You're obviously awake."

She chuckled, turning over to face him. He smiled, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose. "Just go back to sleep, Katherine the Great."

"I'm not a Russian empress."

"You're the empress of my heart. And I'm still kind of jet-lagged." He kissed her and pulled her closer, settling her against his chest. "Drift off into peaceful slumber."

"Goodnight to you too."

She closed her eyes, feeing the soft, rhythmic beat of his heart against her cheek, and as she drifted off to sleep again, it occurred to her just how incredibly easy it would be to fall deeply, wholeheartedly, hopelessly in love with Richard Castle...and never recover from it.


	19. Per sortem sternit fortem

The other well-known movement of _Carmina Burana_ (aka the first one). Used in NFL commercials.

This is a small companion to "Knockout." I'm still recovering. So yep, spoilers for that. Be ye forewarned. This chapter rated R for language.

* * *

><p><em><strong>O Fortuna<strong>_

_Per sortem sternit fortem_

Fate crushes even the strong.

* * *

><p>"Castle, get her out of here <em>now!"<em>

Castle swallows and forces himself to grab her, dragging her away. She begs, she _pleads_. His heart is breaking but he doesn't stop. He finally just lifts her, letting her kick and fight against him as he takes her away, through the hangar door and out into the night. He hates it. Hates that he has to do it. Hates himself for it. But he _swore_ Montgomery he wouldn't let her go.

And she should be fighting back. Castle knows that normally she could beat his ass into the ground in seconds. But though she struggles, she doesn't get free. She's not really fighting him. It's a terrible sign.

He drags her outside the hangar and he feels her stop thrashing against him. She goes limp in his arms. She's not fighting. Instead of fighting him off, she cries. She just cries.

_She's giving up_.

They stumble to the car, and he wants to stop doing this but she needs to be _quiet_. He uses his body to press her into the car, pushing her down, holding her secure. She won't stop crying, and so he covers her mouth, muffling her breath with his fingers, feeling her body wracked with wailing sobs beneath him as he whispers _I'm sorry_, his own eyes blurry with tears because it's all just so fucking _unfair_. One mistake costing a good man his life. A woman crushed by the death of her brave mother, forced to listen to her mentor die to save her life, hunted by evil simply because she is pure good.

Fate is a sadistic bitch.

And as she chokes and cries, her body shuddering against his, his hand wet with her tears, Castle chokes back his own tears and silently tells Jim Beckett and Roy Montgomery _I did what you told me._

* * *

><p><em>Mecum omnes plangite<em>

Weep with me.

* * *

><p><em>And if you're very lucky, you find someone willing to stand with you.<em>

The winking flash catches his eye even as his throat catches at Kate's words. It almost blinds him for a moment, and Castle thinks maybe it's a pinwheel or a ring or a mirror when _oh God_ he knows _exactly_ what it is.

His whole body tenses to push her, but before he can move, he feels the shot, the bang cracking through his ears. Her body jerks, tumbling to the ground beneath him, hitting with a jolt.

He's afraid he's knocked the wind out of her. Until he sees the blood on her white gloves. His heart suddenly freezes and drops and shatters into a thousand pieces. Because a scene he once could have written without a care is coming true in real life.

Someone is dying in his arms.

He has no idea what to do other than beg her, plead with her not to leave him. Kate, please. I need you. You're my whole world.

Tears burn his eyes because the strongest woman he knows is suddenly struggling to breathe, deep rich crimson bubbling up under his hands, fear in her face. Her eyes are locked in his. She's scared.

_Kate, I love you_.

He can't stop himself, babbling, as if love could somehow stop her from fading. Her lips move – to smile? speak? – and then his whole soul deflates as her head falls back, her eyes close, and she stops moving. His eyes are wet and his hands are shaking and she's warm but she's just not _moving_.

And the terrible thought crosses his mind that if her eyes never open again, his life will be over too.


	20. Feror ego veluti

Another _Knockout_ companion, because I am officially obsessed. This one more Kate-centric; same two scenes as chapter 19.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Estuans interius<strong>_

_Feror ego veluti  
>sine nauta navis<br>ut per vias aeris  
>vaga fertur avis<em>

I am swept away  
>like a pilotless ship,<br>like a bird floating aimlessly  
>through the air<p>

* * *

><p>Roy gives the order and Kate realizes he's serious. He is really going to die for her. No. He can't. He <em>can't<em>.

But Castle doesn't let go, suddenly grabbing her and lifting her off the ground, and though she struggles, he has a strength she's never seen and she can't get free, racing her out the back door even as she begs him to stop.

And then they're outside, and that's when it hits her like a slap in the face: she can't stop any of this.

She's completely powerless.

Kate freezes. Her whole body goes slack. She can't breathe. She's choking on panic. She vaguely feels strong arms holding her, pulling her away until she falls back against her car, still trying to breathe. She doesn't know where she is. Her knees buckle and she's sliding down the car, crying. She can't move. But he's there, stroking her hair back, shushing her, whispering _I'm sorry_. His body presses into hers, catching her, holding her up even as his hand muffles her mouth. His face is just a breath away. She can see the tears glimmering in his eyes. She reaches for him, his skin warm under her hand, but the warmth of contact is almost too much and she shuts her eyes, salty tears streaming down her cheeks as she hears the gunshots and knows it will soon be over, and Kate feels herself disconnecting. Floating away. Her body no longer functions. She can't feel it. Just crushing grief.

This can't be happening. It can't be real. She wants to wake up. But this is a gag, not a kiss, and it won't make everything better. And she is no sleeping princess. She's already awake.

There is a long silence, and then a final, deafening bang.

And she knows it's over.

And she finally breaks.

* * *

><p><em>I just got shot<em>.

She knows. She felt it hit her and she feels the pain sweep over her so hard now she can't move. The weight pressing her chest is crushing. Every breath sucks so hard it aches. The fleeting thought crosses her mind that she's had a lot of trouble breathing recently.

The pain in her stomach burns and stabs and twists and rips and shreds and curdles and blazes and she can't understand how a split second can _hurt_ so much.

_(Please don't let me die in front of my father.)_

Rick Castle's face fills her vision, hovering above her like some terrified, black-clad angel, pleading with her. She wants to stay. She doesn't want to leave him. She tried to tell him once. Now she can't speak. She tries to keep looking at him, hoping he can read her thoughts through her eyes. He always can.

It's getting harder to overcome the pain. She can feel herself fading. She can barely think.

Castle's still talking. The words are ringing in her ears. _Kate, I love you_.

Her heart pounds. She desperately wants to reply.

She has no strength to reply. She can feel the cool wetness as tears leave her eyes.

Then her eyes start to close.

_(I love you.)_

Everything gets quiet.

_(I love you, Kate.)_

The burning fills her, pain suddenly ripping through her arms and legs, cutting through her chest, bubbling up into her throat, filling her nose. She can't breathe.

He's begging her to stay but she's suffocating on fire, and so she looks at him one last time, memorizing that frightened face, those pleading eyes, and the last thing she takes with her is _I love you, Kate_ before all the pain finally floats away and everything goes black.


	21. Swaz hie gat umbe

After the drain of _Knockout,_ I want to loosen up a little. So this one's lighter fare. Enjoy, _mes amis_.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Swaz hie gat umbe<strong>_

_Swaz hie gat umbe,  
>das sint alles megede,<br>die wellent an man  
>allen disen sumer gan<em>

Those who dance round and round  
>are all maidens;<br>they want to do without a man  
>all the summer long<p>

* * *

><p>The Old Haunt didn't often do bachelorette parties, but as both Jenny and Kate knew the manager, he had quietly agreed, pencilled it into the book as a private party, and simply "not remembered" to mention it to the owner that the bar would be closed for a ladies' night.<p>

And it had started out fairly quietly, but as the evening wore on, the combination of fruity shots, Cyndi Lauper, two really cute young bartenders, a disco ball, and Jenny's cluster of college-age cousins (Brandi and Mandi and Andi and whatever their names were; they all seemed to end in _i's) _had turned it downright raucous. It was warm inside the bar, and Kate found herself shrugging off her jacket, leaving her in her tank top, and she knocked back another shot and laughed as one of the younger bridesmaids very un-subtly slipped her phone number to a grinning bartender. Somehow the party of twelve or so had at least doubled in size. Even Jenny, who generally didn't drink a lot, had let loose.

Kate signalled the bartender for a glass of water and took a sip, feeling her slight dizziness start to subside. It had been a _long_ time since she'd had this much to drink. Or this much mindless girly fun.

"Hot in Herre" came over the speakers and every girl in the bar whose name ended in _i _shrieked and headed for the dancefloor. Kate finished off her water and took a peek at the time. Almost midnight. Work tomorrow, so she probably wouldn't stay much longer.

Over the clamor of music and laughter, no one even heard the bell over the door. So no one realized it had opened until Cooki and Bunni started shrieking that the stripper was here. And Kate turned to discover a terrified Richard Castle struggling in vain to stop six women from unbuttoning his shirt and slipping one-dollar bills unto his back pockets.

It was probably just the alcohol in her blood that kept her watching the scene for a few more minutes before she took pity on him and went to his rescue. It certainly wasn't any sort of prurient enjoyment of watching him get systematically stripped of his shirt.

But when he let out a yelp as Betsi stuffed a dollar into his back pocket and took the opportunity to sneak a pinch, Kate finally decided to put him out of his misery, heading to the front of the bar and shooing away the tipsy co-eds. He followed her to the bar obediently, picking money out of his clothing with a scared face. "The _hell_. I _own_ this place."

She rolled her eyes. "Castle, what the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"Lanie texted. Said you needed a ride home. She didn't mention I would be doubling as the entertainment."

Kate tried very hard not to laugh. And only a few tears escaped her eyes. Lanie was a very, very good friend. "Castle, I could've just taken a cab."

He shot her a baleful look. "Well, excuse me for trying to be chivalrous. I nearly lost my virtue trying to rescue you."

"Your 'virtue?' Heaven forbid, Castle."

"I just got mauled by a lot of very drunk women. All in the effort to ensure your continuing safety."

"My knight in shining armor," she shot back, leaning back on her elbows against the bar, _almost_ not catching the way his eyes flicked downwards covetously before he hastily look back at her smirking face.

"Exactly. I think a bit of a thank-you is in order, Miss Beckett," he huffed.

Well…she'd had a few drinks. And he had always had the tendency of stretching her patience thin anyway.

So with a catlike smile that had knocked him over since the first day they met, she reached into a pocket, fished out a folded dollar bill, and before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned way into his personal space, relishing the sudden catch in his breath, the hitch of muscles as she steadied herself with a hand just a _hint_ too far up his thigh. Tilting her head, she let her breath fall onto his ear, seeing the flick of his pulse against his skin, and bob of his throat as he swallowed unsteadily.

"_Thank_ you, Rick," she purred, letting her fingers trail up his thigh to tuck the money into his pocket, letting her cheek just barely brush his (oh_God_ his stubble rasped against her cheek and something inside her twisted) as she pulled back, looking up through heavy eyes to see him staring at her with an open mouth and eyes that made her shiver because it was supposed to be a joke but the way he was _looking_ at her, she knew he was thinking things that would make her blush.

"Uh – you're welcome." He swallowed, looking away, re-buttoning his shirt and running a nervous hand through his hair.

Kate glanced at her phone. It really was getting late. "Actually, if you're still offering, I'll take you up on that ride."

"Sure thing."

On their way out, her phone buzzed. It was from Lanie. _You're welcome for tricking him into crashing, by the way. Hope you took the chance to tip him too._

She bit back the smile as she slid into the passenger's seat. Castle settled into the driver's side, turned on the ignition and put on his seatbelt, before turning to her.

"Please don't tell the guys any of this happened."

Kate just gave a throaty laugh and turned to watch out her window as they drove down the street. Richard Castle getting mistaken for a male stripper was the cherry on top of a perfect night.


	22. Pulchra tibi facies

Another chapter of lighter summer reading. This idea blossomed in my head one day after I watched a very specific show on TLC…which one should be obvious.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Veni, veni, venias<strong>_

_Pulchra tibi facies  
>oculorum acies<br>capillorum series  
>o quam clara species<em>

Beautiful is your face,  
>the glance of your eyes,<br>the tresses of your hair;  
>oh, how lovely you are!<p>

* * *

><p>At Castle's residence in the Hamptons, his backyard looks over the ocean, sprays of flowers giving way to a long grassy lawn that rises to a crest above a stretch of sandy beach.<p>

And it's a perfect day, sunny and warm and breezy. Castle watches the ocean for a few moments; the water is glassy, deep blue, peaceful.

Turning back towards the lawn, he fidgets with his bowtie. It's a little tight. He has never cared much for them. And he feels like he's been standing here forever.

There's a long hush.

His breath catches in his throat. There she is.

She appears from behind the rose garden, tall and slender, an angel in white on her father's arm. Her gown is delicate lace, clinging to her body, swirling softly in the ocean breezes. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders, a veil falling over her like mist, a bouquet of slim purple irises in her hand.

As they make their way up the aisle, Castle can see Jim's eyes are wet with tears.

It is not until they reach the front row of seats that Kate finally looks up and her eyes meet his. And then she smiles. Her whole face lights up.

Castle feels his breath stop. His stomach twists. His soul warms. He'll never stop smiling. Because he'll never stop looking at her. Because nothing in the world could compare to her.

And it only feels like seconds before he's slipping the ring on her finger, a silver band etched with the word _Always_. He blinks again and she's his wife.

"You may kiss the bride."

He breathes for the first time since he saw her walk in, and with the sun on his face and her ring on his finger, he leans toward his stunningly beautiful wife to kiss Kate Castle for the first time.

"Castle? Castle! You awake?"

He flinches alert suddenly to discover himself in his chair, the beach nowhere to be found, and Beckett at her desk in a turtleneck and blazer, her pen poised in mid-air as she watches him curiously.

He swallows. "Yeah. Sorry. Uh – what were you saying?"

Her brow furrows. "You okay? You seem a little moony."

"Just basking in your gentle glow, Detective."

She eyes him suspiciously, knowing perfectly well that there is something he isn't saying, before repeating whatever she'd been explaining. Castle finds himself alternately listening and marvelling at the fact that her hair looks no different now than it would in the ocean breeze if she were to be his bride.

Alexis needs to stop watching _Say Yes To The Dress_ when he's around.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Kate arrives at her desk to find an extra coffee mug of water beside her computer with a purple iris inside.<p> 


	23. Statim vivus fierem

_**Dies, nox et omnia**_

_Statim vivus fierem  
>per un baser<em>

Immediately would I return to life  
>with just one kiss<p>

* * *

><p>Kate settled herself in the chair beside the hospital bed, setting her hands on her lap as she watched the still form under the sheets. Castle was pale, but not deathly so. The surgery had gone well. The doctors predicted a painful recovery, but a full one.<p>

It was surprisingly pleasant to have a silent, motionless Castle, though. He was never this docile. She leaned over a bit, peering curiously at his sleeping face. Smooth, peaceful. Her lips quirked as she glanced at his mouth. It _wasn't_ talking. And since he was out, she had no problem looking at it. Not that she _enjoyed_ looking at it, of course. He was no Sleeping Beauty, she was no Prince Charming, and she certainly had no intention of k–

"You want to kiss me, don't you? Don't fight it."

She flinched, startled. He hadn't moved a muscle, or even opened his eyes. But a self-satisfied grin tugged his mouth.

Figures he'd find a way to fluster her ten seconds after regaining consciousness.

She sat back, trying to pretend he hadn't just read her mind. "Sorry to disappoint you."

He peeked one eye open. "Just one kiss, my beauty. Bring me back to life…"

She rolled her eyes. "You have got to be kidding me."

"But the agony! I burn, I pine, I perish – "

"Castle, you got your _tonsils_ out."

"It _hurts_." He pouted at her helplessly. "You could kiss it better, though."

"I am _not_ going to kiss you."

"But you thought about it."

"No."

"Yes, you did."

"I didn't."

"But now you want to."

She sighed. "I'm going to leave now."

"Afraid you won't be able to resist me, Detective?" He tried to grin but ended up wincing a bit. Pain medication only did so much.

"Dream on."

"I'll do that."

Kate finally stopped fighting the smile. "Castle, I do have to head out. Anything you need before I go?" His eyes brightened. "_Besides_ that."

"Nah, I'm fine. But thank you for staying."

She patted his hand. "Just wanted to make sure you were fine. Alexis said she'll be here after school for you."

"Thank you for bringing me here, too. I know I interrupted you actually getting work done."

"It's not like I was getting anything done with you sitting there _whining_ about how much your throat hurt."

He smiled sheepishly. "I really do appreciate it."

"Hope you feel better, Castle." She re-buttoned her coat, standing to leave.

"So, no kiss?"

She paused, looking down at him. _Oh…what the hell._ With a smile, she leaned down, steadying herself with a hand on his shoulder, and kissed him gently on the forehead. "Bye, Castle."

She left with a knowing smile, but didn't look back to see the soft, warm, almost shy look that crossed his face.


	24. Veni, Veni, Venias

I used to think I hated this camp job…but these past two weeks were SO EPIC. I was on call 24 hours a day, I got five hours of sleep a night, I carried loads of heavy percussion instruments across campus, I coached a percussion section and played viola though wholly unqualified to do both…I cannot explain to you how much I loved this experience. Hand me the KoolAid, yo. I'm in. I'm chugging.

I'm a glutton for punishment…this is an epilogue to chapters 19/20; essentially, a post-ep for "Knockout."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Veni, veni, venias<strong>_

_Veni, veni, venias  
>ne me mori facias<em>

Come, come, come…  
>do not let me die.<p>

* * *

><p>The news from the doctors was <em>alive but still in danger<em>. Tonight would be the final word: if she survived the night, she would survive it all.

After Jim Beckett had taken his turn to go in and sit with his daughter for a few minutes, Ryan and Esposito quietly told Castle to go next, past the armed guards, into the dim grey room.

She was pale as a ghost, hair pulled messily back, cheeks sunken, lips grey. As still as she'd been when her eyes had closed beneath him. They hadn't opened yet.

He took his seat and thought for a few moments.

"Kate – " he couldn't stop himself from saying her name. It was all hers, a rope, a link to her. When a reader scanned a page, names drew their eyes. Names anchored a scene, reminded the reader who was participating. Names kept characters in the scene. Kept them present. Kept them alive.

"Kate." He tentatively brushed his fingers over her hand, careful not to touch the IV. She didn't move. "I know they said you may not be able to hear us, but if you can, we're all here. We're all on your team."

Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought he could still see the tracks of tears on her face.

"You know, in books this is where I spill my heart to you and then your eyes open and fill with tears, and we share a deeply intimate moment that begins a beautiful new relationship."

Long, long silence. The dull, lifeless beep of the heart monitor.

"Yeah, I guess not." He shook his head a little. "Kate, I just have a few minutes. I have to apologize. I'm – I'm _not_ sorry for pulling you out of that hangar. I'd do it again. But I'm sorry for making you cry. It _kills_ me to see you unhappy. I never want you to cry again, unless it's pure happiness."

He took a long, shuddering breath. "I – I hope you don't feel any guilt about throwing me out of your place the other night. I know you were pushing me away. I know you were scared. And you know me too well to think I'll let you do this alone." He managed a watery smile. "You can't scare me off that easily, you know. You're stuck with me."

He glanced up at the clock.

"Kate, I told you I love you. That wasn't by accident. Maybe you didn't hear me. Maybe you'll forget. If you want to, I won't argue. I could never grudge it. Just –" he took a deep breath – "Just know, Kate, that I will do anything for you. You _never_ need to doubt my loyalty."

He swallowed. "I should go." He thought for a second, then reached out, covering her hand gently with his. "I hope you know we're here. Because we're not giving up on you."

One of the guards tapped on the window, and Castle held up a finger. _Wait_. Just one last thing. Because after all this, he couldn't bear to keep it all inside.

"Come back to me, Kate." Tears finally spilled down his cheeks. "Hate me. Mock me. Ignore me. Do whatever you want to do to me. Just – please, don't make me live without you. Because I don't think I can anymore."

He pressed a gentle kiss to her pale hand, touched her cheek faintly, whispered "Come back," and made himself leave the room.

* * *

><p>There's only a sliver of her mind present, hazy and thin and hollow in the black shapelessness. No time. No space. No sound. Only formless thoughts. Only echoes. Warmth.<p>

_I love you, Kate._

_Castle_…_don't let me die._

_I want to come back._


	25. Mihi cordis gravitas

This one kind of just appeared in my brain. Not sure why.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Estuans interius<strong>_

_Mihi cordis gravitas  
>res videtur gravis<br>iocus est amabilis  
>dulciorque favis<em>

For me a serious heart  
>is too serious a matter;<br>a joke is pleasant  
>and sweeter than honeycombs.<p>

* * *

><p>"CASTLE! How many times have I told you? Do <em>not<em> change my desktop picture!"

He stopped mid-stride, eyebrows up innocently, coffee cups firmly in hand. "I beg your pardon?"

She fixed him with a glare. "You heard me."

"I thought you'd like it. You said you loved _Star Wars._"

"That in _no_ way means I want police officers, witnesses, suspects, and the commissioner himself to see _this_!"

She stabbed her finger at her screen with a pointed glare, and Castle sipped his coffee to hide his smile, because Ryan and Esposito had already given her crap for the fact that her monitor background was currently a large picture of Han Solo, complete with vest, open shirt, boots, pistol, and the caption, "The _Original_ Captain Tightpants."

* * *

><p>"Oh! I am going to <em>kill<em> him!" She growled in frustration.

Lanie frowned, bemused. "What'd Castle do this time?"

"He – just – he keeps sending me _these_!"

Kate held up her phone with a heavy sigh. In the past ten days, Castle had sent twenty-three pictures of Corgis to her phone. It turned out there was an entire website devoted to pictures of Corgis. Who'd been fool enough to show it to him…she made mental note to file it as a justifiable homicide. Surely New York State had a clause acknowledging Corgi-induced psychosis.

She was reasonably sure there was already an entire sub-section acknowledging Castle-induced psychosis as a mitigating circumstance.

* * *

><p>"Anyone seen Castle? He was supposed to be here today."<p>

Esposito shook his head, heading for the break room to grab his coffee. Ryan shrugged. "I thought I saw him earlier, but I'm not sure. You tried calling?"

"Not yet." She shrugged, settling back at her desk. On the bright side, she'd actually get a chance to finish reviewing her after-action reports in a timely manner.

"Special message for a detective?"

She looked up to find four men in the hallway, wearing red-and-white-striped jackets, white pants, blue bowties, and straw hats, looking around expectantly.

_What now?_

"What the – do you know anything about this?"

"Not a clue," Ryan said with a shrug.

Esposito re-appeared from the break room and eyed the men, looked at Beckett, looked at Ryan, and thought for a second. "Castle _has_ to be behind this."

And then it hit her. Of course. "Oh, dear God, it's a barbershop quartet."

The tallest one pulled out a piece of paper and scanned it. "Katherine Beckett?"

She wasn't going to say anything. Ryan grinned. "Right here, guys!"

"Kevin Ryan, you are dead to me," she grumbled.

"Just being helpful, Detective Beckett." He waved over the quartet. "The lady's over here, gentlemen. As you can tell, she's happy to see you."

The men shuffled closer, and neatly arranged around her desk, they simultaneously whipped off their straw hats and drew bouquets from behind their backs, proffering them with beaming smiles.

She groaned. They were going to sing. To her. In the middle of the station. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Castle peered through the break room blinds with a delighted grin, bouncing on his feet a little as the entire homicide division openly stopped working to watch Kate Beckett's face get progressively more scarlet as the Dapper DaCapos (six-time regional runners-up, mind you) crooned through "Sweet Adeline," replacing every "Adeline" with "Katherine" as he'd asked them.

The song finished and the bullpen erupted in applause – Montgomery was leaning out of his office chuckling – and Castle was about to make good his escape when Kate, mortified as the high tenor kissed her hand, turned back and saw him peeking through the blinds.

"Richard _Castle!"_

Castle darted out the break room door, grin plastered across his face, because his favorite game in the world was getting Kate Beckett to chase him.

And someday…he was going to let her catch him for good.


	26. Amor volat undique

I know, I know, I've done it before…but this story is fun to write. Admit it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Amor volat undique<strong>_

_Amor volat undique  
>captus est libidine<em>

Cupid flies everywhere;  
>he is captured by desire<p>

* * *

><p>She staggered into the dark little bathroom, dragging Castle with her, shutting the door as quickly as she could behind them. "Damn it. Are they following us?"<p>

"I – I couldn't tell. Maybe."

"_Damn_ it."

The bathroom was empty, so she ran a hand through her hair and tried to slow her breathing. For a second she relaxed. Then she heard voices in the hallway, growing louder. Coming toward them. _Shit_.

Castle turned back to her with a panicked look. "I think that's them."

There was no other way out. Kate glanced around. Nowhere to hide. Skeezy nightclub bathrooms weren't designed for cover. They were designed for hookups.

A flash of memory from college hit her…

…well, she knew one way to hide in plain sight.

"Castle, come here."

She backed up against the bathroom sink, dragging him with her. He didn't seem to get it, but followed obediently, staring in confusion as she perched on the chipped porcelain counter. Before he could protest, she rucked up her tight little skirt, yanked him forward so he stood between her thighs, and muffled whatever he was trying to say as she pulled him down into a kiss.

He must have understood, because he stopped resisting and sank into her, his whole body pressed against hers. He kissed her back without hesitation, nipping softly at her top lip as she opened her mouth under his, running her hands through his hair. She arched against him, running her foot over the back of his leg as he ran his hands over her thighs, pulling her tighter against him.

She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, but squeezed her thighs tighter around him, feeling the shudder that rocked him before he leaned further into the cradle of her hips. His tongue glided smoothly into her mouth and his hands traced up her thighs. His hips rocked forward, hitting her in just the right spot, and she gasped, a whimper escaping her as his fingers slipped under the hem of her dress and his tongue stroked the roof of her mouth roughly.

Richard Castle was so damn _good _at this.

The bathroom door flew open to reveal some tipsy blonde who looked up, stared, and giggled nervously. "Uh – sorry – never mind."

The door shut behind her, and it took a second for Kate to process that the tipsy blonde was _not_ the armed drug dealers they'd been worried about.

And the hallway was quiet now.

She gasped and tried to pull away, taking her fingers out of his hair, accidentally nipping at his lip one last time as she pulled back. Accidentally. He was still right on top of her, staring down at her flushed face with dark eyes, his chest heaving against hers, his heart pounding so hard she swore she could feel it. _Shit_.

"Uh – Castle – that – that wasn't them."

He froze, and she was suddenly more than necessarily aware of just which parts of his body were still pressed tightly up against her.

"I think – I think we can stop."

"Uh – uh, right."

"Um – Castle – can you – "

"Yeah. Sorry." He backed up hastily, giving her space to slip down from the sink and yank her skirt back down her legs – all six inches – and she ran her hands through her hair, telling herself they were just shaking from adrenaline. It was a close call. That was all.

"Let's go. We're done here. I don't think they're going to follow us."

"Should I – I mean – should we leave separately?"

She was beyond caring. Everyone who saw them would assume it anyway. Hell, the FBI already did. "Doesn't matter."

So he followed obediently. Some guy waiting for the men's room eyed them, a grin spreading across his face as he saw them hurrying out of the bathroom with flushed faces, a rumpled little dress, and a half-untucked shirt. "Dude – score. Super hot chick."

Castle reacted dazedly, answering the guy's high-five, before scurrying after Beckett with a deer-in-headlights expression.

Because holy _shit_, he almost just hooked up with Beckett in a dirty little club bathroom.

Castle clenched his jaw. Because now he had a top _eleven_ fantasy list.


	27. Mea me comfortat promissio

Anne Hedonia, I liked your opinion and ran with it. Mad props, and an astute observation: Castle's got some spine in him, and gentlemanly as he is, there's a point where he'll make a stand. In the words of Rebecca, back when I didn't yell at _Bones_: _I think there's a moment for two people where they can either catch fire, or..._

So, thanks to Ms. Hedonia, this is a sequel to chapter 26, _Amor volat undique_.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tempus est iocundum<strong>_

_Mea me comfortat promissio  
>mea me deportat negatio<em>

My consent elates me;  
>refusal casts me down<p>

* * *

><p>She answered her door to find Rick Castle, hand raised mid-knock, an unreadable expression on his face, staring at her with a look that told her exactly why he was standing outside her door on a Friday night. <em>Damn it to hell, Castle. I still don't know what happened<em>.

"We need to talk."

She sighed inwardly. He was right, though. "Come in."

She shut the door behind him they faced each other silently for a few moments.

"We can't pretend nothing happened yesterday," he began. But his voice was gentle. He wasn't pressing.

A little comforted by his non-aggressive beginning, Kate clung to her confidence. "Castle, I know it was – it was a little much – but you know why. We had to – "

"No."

She blinked as he cut her off mid-sentence, but he didn't let her finish.

"You can't tell me that. Not again. Not after that night in the alley. And not after how close we came last night."

"Castle – " Oh God. _Castle, we _don't_ talk about it_ – "I didn't mean – " Oh, shit. He wasn't lying. She had felt his groin up against hers, the hard bulge pressed against her. "Castle – "

"I'm not calling you a tease, Kate. I know that's not you. You were as scared as I was, and you weren't trying to tease me." She let out a breath in relief. She'd been half-afraid he'd think that. "But I _know_ that wasn't just the job pulling us together."

"It was." _I'm lying and you know it, Castle_.

"No. And you can't pretend that wasn't a turn-on. I know you were hot for it."

"Castle – " she couldn't breathe. There was no more air in the room. He wasn't crowding her, wasn't pushing, but his eyes were mesmerizing and she couldn't move. Couldn't escape. Didn't want to.

"I was. You felt it. I was right up against you, and I wasn't faking. And you _can't_ pretend you didn't know that. If we hadn't been stopped, we wouldn't have stopped at all."

Kate felt the wall at her back. She hadn't even realized he'd backed her up. And now he stood near, not invading her space, but just close enough that she couldn't look anywhere else. She couldn't think. Because God, he was right. She knew he had felt her nipples tighten against his chest. And dammit – he knew it too.

He let out a frustrated laugh. "So are we going to sleep together before you admit to yourself that maybe it's not just an act? Because you may be in denial, but you know as well as I do that we almost hooked up in that bathroom."

"It didn't mean anything. It was just part of the job."

"I didn't realize your job requirements included second base."

"Castle, _please_. Don't do this."

"Fine." His eyes glinted dangerously. "It was nothing?"

"It's my job."

"Then let's do it again. Right here. Right now. Prove you don't like it, and I'll leave you alone."

She swallowed nervously, her voice suddenly deserting her, but she couldn't form the words.

He chose to take her silence as consent, stepping forward, breaking that silent boundary she'd tried so hard to hastily rebuild, trapping her back against the wall until she couldn't escape. He rested his hands on either side of her shoulders, holding her eye contact as he leaned in, his cheek brushing hers as he whispered into her ear, "Tell me to stop."

Her eyes fluttered shut and then she felt his lips press against her throat, her head falling back as she let out a shaky breath. "You like it when I touch you," he hissed, sucking lightly at her pulse point, drawing a gasp from her. "You want it."

She didn't trust herself to answer, her hands clutching weakly at his shoulders as his tongue hit the sensitive hollow behind her ear. She shivered, biting her lip as he bit her earlobe and he reached under the hem of her shirt, tracing featherlight patterns over her sides.

It took Kate a second to realize that he had stopped, his hands on her hips, his forehead pressed against hers. She tried to slow her breathing, finally looking up, her heart pounding. She swallowed, terrified as she saw the look in his eyes. It was – it was –

"_Rick –_"

He kissed her slowly, his tongue slipping into her mouth almost lazily, swallowing her gasp as she sank more fully against him, her hands buried in his hair. She whimpered as he pressed her back against the wall, trapping her between it and his broad chest, and without thinking she curled her leg around his, crooking her knee until his groin was pressed up tightly against hers, shivering at the deep groan that rumbled through his chest.

She wasn't thinking. He was everywhere, his tongue dominating her mouth, his hands hot on her skin, his hips pressed intimately against hers, his scent and heat and pure desperate _want_ drowning her. Oh God. _Castle…Rick…I can't…_

She was shaking, trembling so hard she couldn't think. And Castle, somehow, got it. His hold on her turned gentle, letting her fall against him, her forehead pressed into the crook between his shoulder and his throat, and she probably wouldn't be so comfortable being held in a lover's embrace by Richard Castle if not for the fact that she was reasonably sure he'd fallen at least a little bit in love with her long, long ago.

"Kate – Kate, please. Don't push me away. I'm sorry," he whispered, rubbing her back gently. "I just – I'm so tired of pretending I don't care about you. Pretending you don't mean anything to me. What happened last night – I can't just push you like that as if it's all some big game and then walk away from you. You're not a toy to me, Kate. You're not something I could use and then set aside. I respect you far too much for that."

Kate swallowed, forcing herself to step back, gaining the inch or two between them before she hit the wall again. Castle waited, not pushing her, settling back to give her a bit more space to breathe.

_God…Castle…_she couldn't fool herself into thinking she didn't love the feel of his hands all over her. _Castle, I don't know if I can let go like that_.

Her right hand rested on his chest lightly, and suddenly she realized she could feel his heart under her hand. It was hammering wildly. He was just as scared as she was.

_He knows I couldn't make the first move. _

_He's trusting me to catch him_.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she realized Rick Castle had just risked complete and utter heartbreak. For her.

She must have been making him nervous, because he spoke again. "I'm not asking you to move in tomorrow and marry me next week, Kate." She laughed. His eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Just – maybe we could have dinner tomorrow?"

"Nothing too fancy."

"As long as you're with me, we can boil hot dogs and I'll be happy."

* * *

><p>He hated that he'd had to push her – but as her face softened into a real smile, her eyes calming from skittish to warm, Rick knew, as sure as he'd known anything, that someday he was going to marry Kate Beckett.<p> 


	28. Ad amorem properat

This new format is fine, but it makes centering the top line all wonky. Le Sigh, friends, Le Sigh. The trials I undergo to bring you entertainment.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Omnia sol temperat<strong>_

_Ad amorem properat  
>animus herilis<br>et iocundis imperat  
>deus puerilis.<em>

The heart of man  
>rushes to love<br>and over all joy  
>the youthful god rules.<p>

* * *

><p>It was almost lunch, she'd been in the office obscenely early on an indecently small amount of sleep, and if not for caffeine, Kate thought she might seriously consider ear-twisting everyone in holding just to keep them quiet for an hour so she could nap.<p>

After catching herself dozing off the second time at her desk, Kate finally decided to surrender to the lure of more coffee.

Seeing Ryan and Esposito busily telephoning New York crime into submission – they were attempting to contact all the arresting officers for two crimes each seven years old, which took persistence, muffled swearing and luck – she grabbed her cup and headed into the break room.

Watching dazedly as her cup slowly filled with hot, fragrant coffee, Kate was seriously debating postponing the coffee and taking a brief power nap on the sofa instead. She was so distracted that she didn't notice the door to the break room open, or see the person who walked in, and she didn't realize he was behind her until she flinched as he started singing into her ear.

"Hun-gry _eyes_…one look at you and I caaaaaaan't disguise, I've got, hun-gry _eyes_…I feel the magic be_tweeeeeeen_ your thiiiiiiiiiiiiighs…"

Trying to keep her ribs from shaking too hard, Kate bit her lip and only managed, "That's not quite how the lyrics go."

"It's grammatically correct. And the rhyme is better."

"Right." She rolled her eyes, but refused to turn back towards him, reaching out to fetch her coffee cup instead and taking a sip. She'd find time to nap later. Might be able to squeeze in twenty minutes or so in the afternoon, after calling in warrants. Sometimes the slight delays of big-city bureaucracy worked in her favor.

"So…drinking a lot of coffee this morning, are we, Detective?" She shot him a look over the rim of her cup, but didn't take the bait. Naturally, he just grinned and kept going. "And is that concealer I see under your eyes? My, my, are we perhaps a bit tired today?"

"Yes, Castle. I'm tired."

"Aha. My superb mystery-solving skills come through yet again."

"Spare me."

"But _why_, one may ask oneself, is the lady so tired?"

She groaned. For a second, she had honestly thought he might shut up. She should have known better. "One might ask. If one had nothing better to do with one's time."

He chuckled. "You know me far too well. And I find myself thinking…Detective, did you spend the night with a gentleman?"

Kate rolled her eyes. "I'd call this harrassment, Castle, but you don't even surprise me anymore."

"And a turtleneck today, too. Hmm. You must have a _stud_ of a man in your life. A real Casanova. Someone who knows how to do all those dirty little things to your body that just make you blush and shiver and beg," he murmured into her ear, standing just a bit too close to be innocent.

She swallowed, hoping he couldn't see her blush.

"Man, that guy must be _unbelievable_ in bed. Probably kept you up all night. And then when he _did_ finally decide to let you get some sleep, you just couldn't fight your desire, and you reached down and grabbed his – _aggghhhh!"_

She removed her fingernails from his earlobe calmly. He pouted at her with a hurt look, and finally, She decided to be kind.

"Yes, Castle, I had a good night."

"Oh, so it's 'Castle,' is it?" He twitched an eyebrow up, a pleased smirk dancing over his lips. "Funny…that's not what you screamed last night. And I heard it several times, so I'm quite sure of what I heard."

"Castle, we are at _work_ right now."

He sighed dramatically. "_Fine_. Have it your way, Detective. I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Good." She paused for a moment, seeing that no one else was in the break room. "Besides, last night you found _much_ better ways to use it."

She sauntered back to her desk with a satisfied smirk, and didn't even have to look back at him to see the predatory smile that crossed his face.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Have never tried writing established-relationship-fic before. First time for everything, I guess.


	29. Sol serenat omnia

If you have not heard the song "Lily" by Ministry of Magic, please go youtube it. You will be glad. It might make a nice soundtrack for this chapter, magically enough...

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ecce gratum<strong>_

_Sol serenat omnia_

The sun brightens everything

* * *

><p>On Thursday, which dawned cloudy and cool, Castle actually managed to beat Kate to the precinct for the first time in almost three years. Granted, she walked in literally the moment he sat in his chair. Still. Victory. He announced it proudly, earning thumbs-up from Ryan and Esposito, an eye-roll from her and no attention from anyone else.<p>

His thirty seconds of triumph segued immediately into the dull grind of deskwork. He had quickly come to learn that for every exciting chase scene, there were twelve to fourteen hours of boring interview, telephoning, calling for warrants, filling out forms for warrants, begging for warrants, chasing flaky, unreliable leads…

He considered it a testament to his own developed maturity that he stayed beside Beckett's desk. When he could help, he did: taking notes for her, alphabetizing things, proofreading paperwork, letting her talk out her theories, refilling her coffee before she had to ask him to, making her smile as often as possible with dumb stories. When he couldn't help, he took pride in being as docile as Alexis (most of the time). And waiting till he could help again.

For a long time, Castle had thought she'd appreciate him getting out of the way instead of sitting in his chair playing Tetris and Angry Birds while she was working. So a few months ago, on a whim, he'd taken an extended walking tour of the precinct, figuring she'd appreciate the temporary absence of her personal breathing, talking paperweight. After several conversations, half a cup of coffee and even being generous enough to deliver an interoffice memo for someone, he ambled back into Homicide. She was still at her desk, of course, phone to her ear, scribbling absently on a piece of paper. Probably on hold.

He was expecting an eyeroll, and rather looking forward to it, because he really did enjoy them. But, to his surprise, she looked up, saw him, and her lips twisted into a tiny smile before her gaze dropped back to her desk. And Castle could swear he saw the faintest pink blush cross her cheeks.

Needless to say, ever since that day, he'd been perfectly comfortable sitting beside her, refilling her coffee, watching her over his phone until she caught him staring and twisted his ear, and tweeting multiple pictures of Corgis to his Twitter audience daily.

It was after noon when he caught it, the sharp exhale as she hung up her desk phone, her face a bit pinched and paler than usual. He quietly suggested, as all her leads seemed to currently be out to lunch, perhaps she might be inclined to follow their example.

It was a mark of how tired she must have been that she agreed without protest.

* * *

><p>Castle considered it a massive victory that she was smiling when they returned from lunch. He'd forgotten himself for a moment, placing his hand on the small of her back as they stepped onto the elevator, but to her credit, she either didn't notice or didn't mind. She even let him carry her umbrella for her today.<p>

* * *

><p>With Karpowski out on vacation and Ryan and Esposito working a separate case, Castle decided he much preferred having the bros around to do more of this leg work. He was getting far too old for this.<p>

And after an afternoon of running across spring-stormy Manhattan, talking to one ditzy co-ed after another, he had no energy, no patience and no faith in higher education left. Thirty girls in the victim's yoga class, but not _one_ of them remembered if she'd been in class on Tuesday. Really? Not _one?_

"College kids have gotten dumber."

Beckett laughed, if a little tiredly. "We're not all brainiacs like you, Sherlock."

"The world's great loss." They sat side by side, contemplating the murderboard. He watched the smooth, blank expression of Beckett thinking, turning over each piece of evidence, looking for a gap in the timeline. Looking for something she was missing.

He knew she didn't like to lose time, especially this early in the evening, so as they returned to the precinct after ascertaining that none of the victim's 83 classmates in Geology 101 (nickname: Rocks for Jocks) remembered if she'd been in class Monday or not, Castle slipped into the break room for a moment and called home.

* * *

><p>They had just scratched off their last possible interview, and consequently discovered that <em>none<em> of the victim's apartment neighbors even knew what her last name was, let alone when she died, when a uniform told them they had a visitor.

Castle watched as a pale Beckett (she'd been running on full speed for twelve hours) unconsciously braced herself for another round of questions. But his face broke into a smile as he saw who it was.

Seeing his grin, Beckett turned to lift an eyebrow quizzically. "Alexis? Hi!"

"Hello Detective. Hi Dad." His daughter bent to kiss his cheek, her hair damp from the steady rain outside. "How's work?"

"Kind of rough, having an actual job."

"Poor Dad." Alexis laughed. "I've got everything. It turned out well, actually."

Castle ushered his daughter and a slightly suspicious Beckett into the break room, where Alexis unloaded the big cardboard box. "Detective, I hope you don't mind. Dad said you've had a really long day and might enjoy a homecooked meal, so I threw something together."

Beckett's mouth fell open, then curled up into a smile, her tired eyes brightening. "Alexis, that is so incredibly thoughtful – "

The girl beamed. "I'm happy to do it. You guys work hard. And it's not fancy, just some chicken and pasta, and there's salad in there."

The three of them had a quiet dinner, and by the time they had cleaned up, wiped the table, and Alexis left with her now-empty tupperware, the lines on Kate's face had smoothed, her face softer as she watched the girl wave goodbye as the elevator doors closed. "You've got a great daughter, Castle."

* * *

><p>"I'm so <em>tired<em>. How do you _do_ this?"

Kate smiled wearily, glancing at her companion. Castle scrubbed his face with the heels of his hands, fidgeting in his chair in a losing battle to stay awake.

"More coffee, Castle?"

"Nah." He shook his head. "Starting to make my stomach feel weird."

"Why don't you go home? Get some rest. Come back in fresh."

"I'm not leaving you alone."

She rolled her eyes. "Much as I appreciate the chivalry, Castle, this is my job. I'm fine."

"You're as tired as I am." She'd been poring over cell phone records for hours. It was after midnight. It was a tedious process; she had to check every phone number, look it up, and frequently check previous records to look for patterns. He had his own stack to look through, but he was slower than she was. And he kept getting sleepy. The numbers were starting to blur together.

She chuckled, leaning back in her chair to stretch for a moment. He tried not to pay attention to her shirt hugging her chest. "Tell you what, Castle. Go crash on the break room couch for an hour, then come back. You'll feel better."

"You sure? I don't want to let you do all the work."

She smiled. "If I miss you too much, I'll come read in there."

"Feel free to come snuggle, should the need arise."

"Noted." She rolled her eyes

* * *

><p>He opened his eyes, groggy, a weird taste in his mouth. His watch said it was 4:47. <em>Oof<em>.

Peeling himself up – he was draped over the small couch, which was not made for a man his height – he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked up to find Kate, curled up on a chair next to him. Her lips were parted, her hair falling over her face, one hand pillowed under her cheek.

He wondered how long she'd stuck it out before she'd finally come in and crashed.

She didn't stir as he stood up, so he decided not to bother her. Shrugging off his blazer, he draped it over her gently, smiling to himself as she sighed and snuggled into it.

Opting to forego the coffee right now – he didn't want the machine's noise to wake her – Castle stretched out his creaking frame and headed back to the conference room to keep looking through the phone records.

* * *

><p>She appeared in the doorway half an hour later, one hand in her hair, the other holding his jacket. She smiled a little self-consciously. "Thanks."<p>

"No problem." He set down his pen, fascinated by the almost shy look in her eyes. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, fine." She held out the jacket. "And thanks for that."

"Of course, milady." That made her laugh, and she settled back down in her chair.

"So, anything?"

* * *

><p>Between the two of them, they managed to isolate a dozen or so phone calls in the past two weeks they flagged as highly suspicious and worthy of immediate investigation.<p>

"Ugh. I don't pull all-nighters like I did in college." Castle yawned. "Before every Brit Lit test. And the essays for 20th Century American Novel. They were _killer_."

Kate smiled. "You're getting old, Mr. Castle."

He shuddered. "Don't remind me. It makes my rheumatism act up."

She was all gung-ho for calling in warrants and getting on with the investigation. Castle sighed.

"Beckett, it is 5:30 in the morning. Even criminals sleep. And you can't do anything till Markaway gets into his office anyway, not without this being an emergency, which it's not. Come on."

"Where?" She had learned to question first, follow second.

"Please? Trust me?"

Trust ended up leading her up the elevator, across the floor, and into the service entrance to the outside access stairs.

She eyed Castle skeptically. "Are you hoping my exhaustion will weaken my defenses and I'll agree to let you ravish me on the roof?"

"So it won't work?" She shot him a look. "Kidding. Kidding. And no, sadly, that wasn't my plan. Though I can certainly amend it if you – "

"No thank you."

"Acknowledged."

Beckett bit her lip, but as much as he was a twelve-year-old at times, Castle generally had fairly good ideas. Plus, she was exhausted. So it was easier to just let him grab her hand and pull her up the stairs, through the emergency exit doors, and up to the rooftop.

The breeze lifted her hair as she crossed to the edge, resting on her arms as she looked off to the east, where the dark horizon richly melted into blue, pink and pale gold light. The clouds had broken during the night. It had been a long time since she felt like she could see the whole sky.

Kate took in a long, chilly breath. It was still city air, but for some reason it felt fresher. Clearer.

"You look happier."

She glanced over to see Castle watching her, his gaze a mixture of warmth and – and something. "It's nice to escape for a few minutes."

"Your shoulders are more relaxed."

She leaned on the ledge at the roof's edge and rested her chin on her hands. "It's good to get outside. See the sky." She glanced back at him. "Thanks for bringing me out here. This was a good idea."

He leaned beside her, watching as the sun slowly crept up on the horizon. "Anytime."

_My soul is swift upon the wing,  
>And in its deeps a song I bring;<br>Come, Love, and we together sing,  
>"'Tis morning, 'tis morning."<em>

Kate was silent, and as Castle snuck yet another look at the sun brightening her tired face, he decided that Kate at dawn – sleepy, trusting, and quick to smile – was possibly his favorite Beckett yet.

* * *

><p>(poem: Paul Laurence Dunbar)<p> 


	30. Novus amor

It's been a fun ride, and I thank all of you who have been kind enough to read and review. But sadly, this is going to be the last chapter. Figured I'd go out with a bang, so to speak.

Thanks to the incomparable **morethanamuse **for beta-ing this chapter. Anything good you can credit to her. Anything problematic is all mine.

By the way, this is one of the blatantly sexiest movements in Carmina. Simon Keenlyside makes it downright dirty.

[This chapter rated M. Kiddies, go 'way.]

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><p><em><strong>Tempus est iocundum<strong>_

_Oh, oh, oh  
>totus floreo,<br>iam amore virginali totus ardeo,  
>novus, novus novus amor est,<br>quo pereo_

Oh, oh, oh,  
>with love I bloom for a maiden,<br>my new, new, new love,  
>of which I perish<p>

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><p>No sooner had the door to Kate's apartment shut behind them than her back was up against it. His tongue was deep and probing in her mouth as she whimpered against him, his hands on her possessive, gentle but firm.<p>

Her skin under his hands was hot, smooth against the cool silky fabric of her dress, and Castle had to force himself to stop for a second, catch himself before he lost all control and this ended up some mindless rutting against a wall when she deserved silk and lace and candles and champagne and satin sheets and romance and diamonds and _always_.

"Kate – " he choked out, trying to form a sentence while she sucked at his pulse point – "Kate, not that I – don't – " he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself enough to speak coherently – "I want you to understand, if we don't stop now, I don't think I can."

"I don't want you to stop." She nipped lightly at his ear, and he shuddered, trying not to lose all control.

"As long as you're sure," he whispered.

She paused, her hands on his chest, and then she reached for his face, turning it towards hers as she rose on her toes to meet him, her shoes long since kicked aside. Her eyes searched his, her pupils dilated, face flushed.

"Rick, you've wanted me for three years. Now _take me_."

Castle kissed her hungrily, his tongue sliding into her mouth, and without warning he swept her into his arms, ignoring her muffled shriek of surprise, and carried her down the hallway to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him and laying her gently on her bed.

And it felt like he'd never undressed a woman before, slipping the fabric from her body reverently. All that time he had spent teasing her, flirting with her, and now he was _worshipping_ her. He gently slid her dress off, and it slipped to the floor.

She held her breath as his fingers slowly traced over her stomach, pausing as he came to the scar near her heart, tracing over the raised skin with the faintest of touches. She bit her lip, her eyes stinging_. Oh God_.

And Castle saw it, felt the catch in her breath as his fingers traced the scar. Saw the sudden glimmer in her eyes. "Kate – Kate, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You're so beautiful. _So_ beautiful."

She bit her lip. "Castle – "

"Does it hurt?"

"No," she whispered.

He bent to press his lips to the scar, that permanent reminder of the day he'd never forget, and her eyes rolled back as she shivered. "_Please don't stop_."

Her shaky whisper sent a jolt through him. _God, Kate. You're perfect. Absolutely perfect. You're a goddam angel. _ Because there was no other possible way to process the fact that Kate Beckett in black lace was lying on her bed beneath him, unbuttoning his shirt, sucking on his tongue as he reached behind her to unhook her bra and dropped it on the floor. He pressed her down gently onto the pillows with a long kiss before pulling off his shirt, throwing it aside as she impatiently reached for his belt buckle.

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><p>He had to remind himself to breathe. Remind himself it was real. The naked woman in his arms was really her. Her body was as perfect as he'd imagined, a thousand times in his private fantasies, but better because now he had all the time in the world to trace every curve, every inch, everything he'd always wanted to know. The silky hair splayed over the pillows. The hitch and tense of her taut muscles as he slid one hand over her stomach. The terrible scar, so terribly close to her heart, that had come so close to taking her away forever. The soft dig of her fingers in his arm.<p>

The sharp intake of breath as his fingers trailed, feather-light, across her hip.

And then he slid two fingers into her wetness. And it wasn't just that she was whimpering and biting her lip and begging him breathlessly to _please_ just _do it_, it was that she was _letting _him. She gasped, her chest heaving, face flushed, her heels digging into the mattress. He could see her hands fisting weakly, clutching at the bedsheets as she gasped, her breathing shallow and ragged. "Rick – oh _God_, oh, _Castle_ – "

As she clenched violently around him, her hair swirled across her pillows, her eyes dark and hazy with desire, her lips parted, his heart twisted because he'd never, ever, _ever_ wanted a woman so much.

He kissed her warm mouth slowly until she could breathe again.

And then, with no warning, she flipped him smoothly, pinning him underneath her and kissing her way down his chest, and that's when he realized Kate had a wicked streak. A devilish, wicked, downright fucking _evil_ streak that was _Oh God oh GOD yes. _And he was trembling, because she was so damn beautiful and perfect and smooth and soft and _naked_ and his mouth was dry and the way she was looking at him and (_ohhhhhhh God _) touching him sent a deep groan through his chest.

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><p>He sank into her, gritting his teeth as she cried out, her knees tightening around his waist as she arched into him, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself as he started to move with her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. He drove into her harder, and her fingernails cut deep into his skin as she gasped, her thighs squeezing into him.<p>

He felt her begin to convulse around him, and he felt the tight vibrations from her moan just before her cry was muffled against his shoulder. He followed a moment later, emptying himself into her with a deep groan as she gasped.

He felt her trembling slowly calm, her breathing slowly evening out, the pulse point at the base of her throat slowing its rapid fluttering. A bead of sweat caught his attention, glistening in the little hollow at the base of her throat, and he bent to softly kiss it away.

The last kiss he placed on her lips was soft, gentle, warm and sweet. And she fell asleep wondering why on earth she had fought against this for so long.

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><p>When Kate woke sometime later, she found Castle propped up on one elbow beside her, stroking her hair softly, watching her with such a reverent, loving look of adoration that she blushed self-consciously. "What?"<p>

He smiled. "I thought I already knew how beautiful you are." She flushed deeply and looked away, but he set a hand on her cheek, turning her face back to his. "I don't think I even knew the meaning of that word before now."


End file.
